


A Court of Night and Shadows

by jarynw02



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-11-01 03:57:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 62,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10913859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarynw02/pseuds/jarynw02
Summary: Feyre's known of the legend of the Fae mating bond all her life & she never once thought Elain's favorite folklore would do her any good. But now she's face to face with her rescuer at Fire Night & she knows those stories of that internal, invincible twine that snaps between two mates is very, very real.





	1. Chapter 1

“Stop it,” I said, but the words came out in a strangled gasp as they began herding me toward the line of the trees, toward the darkness. I pushed and thrashed against them; they only hissed. One of them shoved me and I staggered, falling out of their grasp. The ground welled up beneath me, and I reached for my knives, but sturdy hands grasped me under the shoulders before I could draw them or hit the grass.

They were strong hands -- warm and broad. Not at all like the prodding, bony fingers of the three faeries who went utterly still as whoever caught me gently set me upright.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you,” said a deep, sensual male voice I’d never heard. But I kept my eyes on the three faeries, bracing myself for flight as the male behind me stepped to my side and slipped a casual arm around my shoulders.

A sudden cord awakened in my bones stretching through me like I’d never felt before.

The three lesser faeries paled, their dark eyes wide.

“Thank you for finding her for me,” my savior said to them, smooth and polished. His voice slowly burned at that cord pulling all the pieces of me together and coiled in my chest. “Enjoy the Rite.” There was enough of a bite beneath his last words that the faeries stiffened. Without further comment, they scuttled back to the bonfires.

I stepped out of the shelter of my savior’s arm and turned to thank him.

Standing before me was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen and that coil snapped into place, a new creature born within me pulling me to him.

Everything about the stranger radiated sensual grace and ease. High Fae, no doubt. His short black hair gleamed like a raven’s feathers, offsetting his pale skin and blue eyes so deep they were violet, even in the firelight. They twinkled with amusement as he beheld me.

For a moment, we said nothing. That cord was burning in my chest and  _ thank you  _ didn’t seem to cover what he’d done for me, but something about the way he stood with absolute stillness, the night seeming to press in closer around him, made me hesitate to speak -- made me want to run in the other direction.

And yet that cord whispered to press in closer to him.

He, too, wasn’t wearing a mask. From another court, then.

A half smile played on his lips. “What’s a mortal woman doing here on Fire Night?” His voice was a lover’s purr that sent shivers through me, caressing every muscle and bone and nerve. Caressing the cord.

And just like that it dawned on me.

I’d always dismissed the legends as frivolous in comparison to the stories of bloodshed and carnage of the war and the deadliness of the Fae. Romance wasn’t exactly something that had piked my interest at the time and yet I’d never forgotten. Elain loved the idea of it. Of the mating bond. My sister retold our mother’s stories countless times, hope glowing in her eyes for a love that could even begin to compare to the all consuming, burning bond of Fae mates. Every story had described it the same way: there was a pull and then, like invincible twine, a bond would snap within each person binding them with an unparalleled connection. An infinite, immortal connection.

I was not Fae. I was not immortal. How could this be?

But already I felt the comfort of the pull in my chest reaching across the darkness to this terrifyingly beautiful male.

The drumming was increasing in tempo, building to a climax I didn’t understand. It had been so long since I’d seen a bare face that looked even vaguely human. His clothes -- all black, all finely made -- were cut close enough to his body that I could see how magnificent he was. As if he’d been molded from the night itself.

He was still waiting for my answer.

The cord burned in my chest. I couldn’t avoid it. I couldn’t fight it. The fire of the bond singed inside me, webbing through my limbs simmering my bones. I was boiling with an ancient magic I didn’t fully understand and couldn’t bring myself to reject. What was this?

“Who are you?” I asked, knowing I should be finding a way to escape. He was obviously more dangerous than the three lesser faeries he’d saved me from and if I had any sense about myself I would be plotting, lying, and running away. But here I was, holding his steady gaze.

His eyes were wide, but didn’t reveal any surprise at my lack of fear in his presence. He prowled closer, slipping his hands into his pockets. “You have some sense of who I am, don’t you human?”

I stared into his eyes as deep and endless, as enchanting and intimidating as the night sky above us. The burning grew in my chest seizing the cord in flames.

When it became apparent I wouldn’t answer, he chuckled. I thought I felt a tinge of nervousness through the bond. “You’re welcome,” he said. “For saving you.”

I bristled with his arrogance, eyeing retreat. I was close enough to the bonfire, to that little hollow where the faeries were all gathered, that I could make it if I sprinted. Maybe someone would take pity on me -- maybe Lucien or Alis were there.

“Strange for a human to be friends with faeries,” he mused, and began circling me. I could have sworn tendrils of star-kissed night trailed in his wake. “Aren’t humans usually terrified of us? And aren’t you, for that matter, supposed to keep on your side of the wall?”

Fear met fire in my belly, fighting for dominance. Should I be running from him? If this was indeed the sacred bond of legends, should I join him?

Did he feel it too?

“I’ve known faeries my whole life,” I lied. “I’ve never had anything to fear from them.”

He paused his circling. He now stood between me and the bonfire -- my escape route. “And yet they brought you to the Great Rite and abandoned you.”

“They went to get refreshments,” I sputtered out, and his smile grew. Whatever I’d just said had given me away. I’d spotted the servants hauling off food, but -- maybe it wasn’t here.

He smiled a heartbeat longer. I had never seen anyone so handsome -- and never had so many warning bells pealed in my head because of it. My senses were overwhelmed with the burning tug, with fear and with interest. Surely this phantom cord couldn’t be the real bond. Maybe it was magic. The darkness dragging across him was clear proof of his magic. Maybe this was his doing to me, weakening my defenses before taking the opportunity to… do whatever he wanted to me. But would he need to play mind games? He’s a High Fae. I’m just a mortal. He doesn’t need to be crafty, brute force would easily squash me. A chill sizzled through the fire in my bones.

“I’m afraid the refreshments are a long way off,” he said, coming closer now. “It might be a while before they return. May I escort you somewhere in the meantime?” He removed a hand from his pocket to offer his arm.

He’d been able to scare off those faeries without lifting a finger. I clenched my jaw and exhaled invisible flame through the cord and followed it forward. Though it might have been the biggest risk I’d ever taken, I linked my arm into his. He raised an eyebrow, unsure what to make of my actions. “So you’re not a part of the Spring Court?” I asked, willing my mangled breaths to steady their fear and, was that, excitement?

He led us away from the bonfire, every movement exquisite and laced with lethal power. He gave me a lazy smile. “Do I look like I’m part of the Spring Court?” The words were tinged with an arrogance that only an immortal could achieve. He laughed under his breath. “No, I’m not a part of the noble Spring Court. And glad of it,” he gestured to his face where a mask might go just before I was about to blurt out a  _ why.  _  I stifled it, along with the tight smile that almost spread across my lips.

I should have walked away from him, but now we were touching and the cord tightened pulling me towards that touch. “Why are you here, then?”

The man’s remarkable eyes seemed to glow -- with enough of a deadly edge that my steps faltered. “Because all the monsters have been let out of their cages tonight, no matter what court they belong to. So I may roam wherever I wish until dawn.”

Before I could stop myself from the death wish I must have I blurted, “And where do you wish to roam?” I could feel the heat rising from the cord filling my cheeks. I should not be here. I should go back to the house. I shouldn’t have come out tonight. Tamlin was right to have me locked in my room. But at the thought of my room as my cage, I pushed my fears aside and looked to meet the male’s eyes.

He seemed frozen to me -- shocked. His steps had halted and we were now off hidden in darkness beneath a canopy of wild, ageless trees. Their trunks ripped through the earth and exclaimed to the sky like no simple tree I’d ever seen in the forest at home. It seemed fitting: this male taking refuge in these trees.

Slowly, his gaze dropped south taking in every thread of my clothes and line of my body before bringing those boundless violet eyes back to my own. It was a low purr that spilled from his lips when he said, “I can think of a place to roam all the way until dawn.”

And then I was burning. My body was a pyre, an offering to him as the bond dragged me to him. There were no other thoughts in my head. Lost to me was reality. Lost to me was the vague memories of home, of the Spring Court. Lost to me was every fear that once bit into me about this stranger. This nameless stranger was my mate. There was no other explanation. Unless I was losing my mind, this was real. He was real and I was real and I was bound to him.

He dropped my arm like he’d been burned and took a step back eyeing me cautiously. I could see, even in the darkness, the heaving of his chest. In fact, I could feel it in my own.

“Who are you?” I heard the words leave my tongue as I watched his features glow and hum in the shadows.

He tensed and watched me with wide eyes. His hands slowly curled into fists at his side and his breaths evened out. His shoulders dropped, easing his own coil within himself. His eyes never flinched as they connected with mine. But I knew he wasn’t going to answer. He didn’t know what to do with me at this point. I felt the gentleness and the urgency through the corded bond between us. He would not hurt me.

So I dared, “Do you feel it too?”

And then he was gone in a whisper of shadows.

The fire dulled inside of me, the cord slackened. Distance spread between us as he disappeared in that magical way.

When I stopped shaking I peeled myself from the black beneath the trees and dragged myself back to the hollow. I was grateful to lose myself in the crowd milling along the path to the cave, still waiting for some moment to occur.

Most of the gathered faeries still wore masks, but there were some, like the lethal stranger, potentially my  _ mate _ and those three horrible faeries, who wore no masks at all -- either faeries with no allegiance or members of other courts. I couldn’t tell them apart. As I scanned the crowd, my eyes met with those of a masked faerie across the path. One was russet and shone as brightly as his red hair. The other was -- metal. I blinked at the same moment he did, and then his eyes went wide. He vanished into nothing, like the stranger had, and a second later, someone grabbed my elbow and yanked me out of the crowd.

“Have you lost your senses?” Lucien shouted above the drums. His face was ghostly pale. “What are you doing here?”

None of the faeries noticed us -- they were all staring intensely down the path, away from the cave. “I wanted to--” I started but Lucien cursed violently.

“Idiot!” he yelled at me, then glanced behind him toward where the other faeries stared. “Useless human fool.” Without further word, he slung me over his shoulder as if I were a sack of potatoes.

Despite my wriggling and shout of protest, despite my demands that he get my horse, he held firm, and when I looked up I found that he was running -- fast. Faster than anything should be able to move. It made me so nauseated that I shut my eyes. He didn’t stop until the air was cooler and calmer, and the drumming was distant.

Lucien dropped me on the floor of the manor hallway, and when I steadied myself, I found his face just as pale as before. “You stupid mortal,” he snapped. “Didn’t he tell you to stay in your room?” Lucien looked over his shoulder, toward the hills, where the drumming became so loud and fast that is was like a rainstorm.

The bond jerked through my chest and I felt the simple rage bubble through it. Could the stranger from another court see this? Hear this? I couldn’t see or hear him… But I did feel things through it. He could probably feel me too. I took a steadying breath letting his anger fuel my own, ready to snap.

“You better be glad that wasn’t even the ceremony!” It was only then that I saw the sweat on his face and the panicked gleam on his eyes. “By the Cauldron, if Tam found you there…”

“So what?” I said shouting as well. I hated feeling like a disobedient child. A low growl reverberated through the cord in my chest. He didn’t seem to like that either and it encouraged my anger.

“It’s the  _ Great Rite,  _ Cauldron boil me! Didn’t anyone tell you what it is?” My silence was answer enough. I could almost see the drumbeats pulsing against his skin, beckoning him to rejoin the crowd. “Fire Night signals the official start of spring -- in Prythian, as well as in the mortal world,” Lucien said. While his words were calm, they trembled slightly. I leaned against the wall of the hallway, forcing myself into a casualness I didn’t feel. My chest heaved in burning angst as I summoned control over it. “Here, our crops depend upon the magic we regenerate on _ Calanmai _ \-- tonight.”

I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my pants. Tamlin had said something similar two days ago. Lucien shuddered, as if shaking off an invisible touch. “We do this by conducting the Great Rite. Each of the seven High Lords of Prythian performs this every year, since their magic comes from the earth and returns to it at the end -- it’s a give-and-take.”

“But what is it?” I asked, and he clicked his tongue. I couldn’t hold back the twitch of annoyance with him that went down my nose.

“Tonight, Tam will allow… great and terrible magic to enter his body,” Lucien said, staring at the distant fires. “The magic will seize control of his mind, his body, his soul, and turn him into the Hunter. It will fill him with his sole purpose: to find the Maiden. From their coupling, magic will be released and spread to the earth, where it will regenerate life for the year to come.”

My face became hot and I fought the urge to fidget. The tether between myself and the stranger was silent.

“Tonight, Tam won’t be the faerie you know,” Lucien said. “He won’t even know his name. The magic will consume everything in him but that one basic command -- and need.”

“Who… who’s the Maiden?” I got out.

Lucien snorted. “No one knows until it’s time. After Tam hunts down the white stag and kills it for the sacrificial offering, he’ll make his way to that sacred cave, where he’ll find the path lined with faerie females waiting to be chosen as his mate for tonight.”

“What?” I gasped, hoping he didn’t notice my flinch when he said  _ mate. _

__ Lucien laughed. “Yes -- all those female faeries around you were females for Tamlin to pick. It’s an honor to be chosen, but it’s his instincts that select her.”

“But you were there -- and other male faeries.” I felt the sweat bead beneath my hairline, not from the cryptic jealousy I’d meekly expected with the news of Tamlin’s actions tonight, but from the realization of what those male faeries wanted from me. They thought that just by my presence, I was happy to comply with their plans. I reached into myself and lightly wrapped myself around that cord, hoping to send a message to the other end.  _ Thank you. _

__ “Ah,” Lucien chuckled. “Well, Tam’s not the only one who gets to perform the rite tonight. Once he makes his choice, we’re free to mingle. Though it’s not the Great Rite, our own dalliances tonight will help the land, too.” He shrugged off that invisible hand a second time, and his eyes fell upon the hills. “You’re lucky I found you when I did, though,” he said. “Because he would have smelled you, and claimed you, but it wouldn’t have been Tamlin who brought you into that cave.” His eyes met mine, and a chill went over me. “And I don’t think you would have liked it. Tonight is not for lovemaking.”

I swallowed my nausea.

“I should go,” Lucien said, gazing at the hills. “I need to return before he arrives at the cave -- at least  _ try  _ to control him when he smells you in the crowd.”

It made me sick -- the thought of Tamlin forcing me, that magic could strip away any sense of self, or right and wrong. But hearing that… that some feral part of him  _ wanted  _ me… My chest tore in two. There had been something building during this time here with Tamlin. I could feel it now, a flirtation that had woven through me like slow growing vines. A part of me perked at the thought of Tamlin wanting me, my body.

But I was still burning, a deep constant blaze that plunged through me eating me whole, devouring me at once. The pull was as strong as any feelings I might feel for Tamlin since he took me from my home over the wall.

“Stay in your room tonight, Feyre,” Lucien said, walking to the garden doors. “No matter who comes knocking keep the door locked. Don’t come out until morning.”

_ I may roam wherever I wish tonight  _ he’d said.  _ All the monsters have been let out of their cages tonight. _

This could be my only chance to find answers. What if this was a spell? A trick of the mind? This could still be a trap -- a way to get to Tamlin and the Spring Court. I could be easy bait. But the way he’d looked at me… He was shocked when I’d asked him if he felt the bond too. He had to. We’d communicated through it. What if I had detected his spell when he thought it would be imperceptible to me? Would going to find him lead me straight into his snare?

It was worth the risk, I told myself. I’d rather be chasing answers than locked away, fragile and cowering.

I set off on foot running from the gardens toward the hill. Surely as long as I didn’t go near the cave, Tamlin wouldn’t smell me. He’d never have to know. The drumming was savage, bleating its message into the night air prickling against the heavy beat of my heart. I did my best to be swift and silent, though I knew there were creatures hiding in the shadows around me as I weaved through the thin, graceful trees that surrounded the grounds hopefully avoiding the bogge.

The drums led me along as I ran through the forest. Exhaustion escaped me somehow, though part of me knew I should have found another horse to make this trip as I had the first time. I was beginning to doubt I would make it to the first bonfire when I felt the tug. It was like a trance, this mystical calling from within that begged me forward, launching me into a realm beyond the grass beneath my feet and the smoky air wafting through my hair as I flung myself through its fog into the beat of the drum.

The music crescendoed into crashing waves as I finally heard the chatter of the gathered Fae. When I reached the edge of the trees, I clung to one, leaning against it to keep myself from collapsing. Panting, I looked around at the crowd, their faces still warped by the glamour in place. They were swirls of color in my vision. I pushed off the tree itching to go into the crowd, to follow the pull of the bond. My feet were leadened and the air dripped on my skin, sticking where it landed and my breaths grew heavy. The tether within me pulled, desperately clawing towards me, begging me to follow it, but I couldn’t recapture myself. My movements slowed and I was exposed, the cover of the trees at my back.

This was a mistake. I gasped as the panic reached for me. I took a step backwards ready to turn and run but it was too late. One by one the swirls of colorful Spring Court masks came into focus with the maskless faces from the fae of other courts and they were all looking at me.

The faeries quieted and the beating drums became the only sound. My hand reached to my knives, not that they would do me any good against a horde of fae. Lucien wouldn’t save me this time. He was right; I was a fool for coming back. I was asking for death.

_ Useless human. _

A crowd of eager party go-ers to my left parted slowly, their eyes widening. A few took a step back and I did the same. Even if I ran they could all outrun me. I was easy prey. A single male moved through them. Wind whipped around the dark figure glowing in the firelight as power swam around him.

Relief flushed through me when I saw Tamlin’s face. The familiar flutter rose and died in my chest all in one moment. His eyes were not his eyes. They gleamed in the night, dark as coal, their embers kindling deep within. Too late I realized they were locked on mine. Too late I realized he was headed straight for me. His clothes once fine, now covered in blood from the sacrifice of the stag. Red dripped from his chin. I stumbled backwards in a frenzied retreat, but before I could fall two strong hands caught me.

A scream tore loose from my lips and ice shot through my veins, but in an instant I knew it was not Tamlin who had caught me. Shadows misted around my skin and my blood became molten, the bond comforting me to step back until I was flat against him.

My mate.


	2. Chapter 2

When I’d killed the wolf in the woods, I’d expected the predator to snarl and fight me for his life, maybe even kill me. His eyes had bore into my mind, those depthless, knowing eyes that watched me as he died in the snow that day. Now I could admit there was a part of me that knew that beast had been a faerie and yet I did not care. Not back then. Not when the survival of my father and sisters weighed on my shoulders. Not when the shackles of my mother’s promise were bound around my ankles to protect them all. Not when fae were nothing more than monsters, a danger to myself and my family.

But then when my ash arrow pierced his hide and that wolf’s eyes landed on mine, I didn’t see a beast, rather a weary being accepting of his fate gifted to him by the Cauldron. A reluctant martyr. 

I could relate to the sacrifice.

The predator that stalked toward me now was nothing like that wolf in the forest. Tamlin’s long hair looked like gold melting down his chest in the light of the bonfire. Invisible forces tore through the space around him prickling my skin even from the distance. He looked like the monsters described in the stories from five hundred years ago. Vicious faerie soldiers that destroyed and pillaged, murdering humans in ways my mind had never been strong enough to imagine. In this moment, Tamlin’s face had twisted into this wicked Hunter, even with the jewelled mask still cursed onto his face. He looked like an ancient warrior ready to tear the heart out of my chest.

Though maybe it wasn’t  _ my _ heart he was currently imagining within his fist. The chest behind me was as still as mine while I held my breath. Our bond was taut and I felt the tension reverberate through me to the beat of his heart. We were still at the edge of the thinner trees as Tamlin continued his slow approach. His eyes were looking past me, slicing into the male behind me.

The audience of faeries had grown since Lucien had taken me back to the Spring Court. They stood as a mass behind Tamlin in silence, mesmerized.

A deep rumble grew through the sounds of the crackling fire and just as I realized it was coming from Tamlin he was suddenly in front of me. I bit back the bile in my throat. Chills surged down my body as I felt my blood drain into hiding. I tried to step back but there was hard muscle behind me, covering me with his presence.  I was encased between the two males. Trapped.

“I claim this woman,” Tamlin snarled. “She is mine.”

I felt a chuckle against my back but the bond didn’t loosen its tension. “Well it seems I got here first, didn’t I?”

Tamlin lifted his head and roared an animalistic roar that I would never have believed came from the lips of a man. “How dare you interrupt my ceremony with your petty games. You are not necessary here,  _ whore.  _ I’m sure your services are needed back at home.”

They glowered at each other drenching me in their potent magic, the stench filling my nose until my head felt weightless.

“Even I’m allowed to have a little fun,” he said, dragging a hand gently down my arm. Tamlin bristled. “I mean, I’m a High Lord too aren’t I? Do I not get to participate in my own Rite tonight?”

The colors began fading around me tunneling into the darkness of the stained blood on Tamlin’s chest. I couldn’t look away. My knees buckled as I fell, but unseen hands held me up. I leaned back against the unnamed High Lord. 

My mate.

“Let her go,” Tamlin spat.

The hand on my arm tightened. “When I’m done with her.”

And then there were shadows and stars in my vision as my body ripped through darkness. When I could see again, Tamlin was gone. The bonfire was gone. The watching fae were all gone. The beating drums clamored in the distance. My savior had let go and was pacing around me, his jaw clenched and fists tight at his sides. 

Before I could beg to be spared from his own Rite, my legs collapsed beneath me and I vomited in the grass. My fingers dug into the dirt, staining my nails as I waited on the ground for his hands to grab me, forcing me to whatever will he had for me on this night. I felt his touch pulling my hair from around my shoulders, looping it around his wrist. I waited for a sharp yank but it never came. Instead, a second wave of nausea barrelled through me as I emptied my stomach again. When I’d finished I slowly wiped a sleeve across my mouth and he released my hair letting it fall from his grip.

Warmth puddled in me through the cord that bound me to this man. 

“Do you even know what he would have done to you?” he ground out at me. 

I stood slowly, not trusting myself not to collapse again just yet. He wasn’t looking at me, rather eyeing the hills off toward the drums. “Aren’t you going to do the same thing?” I asked.

He looked at me then, holding my gaze for a few eternal seconds. “My blood wants me to, but I won’t. I haven’t performed this ritual in years and I don’t plan on committing it ever again.”

“Don’t you have to? In order to keep your power as a High Lord?”

He ran his hands through his hair, dragging them down his face before looking at me again. “Not anymore. The Spring Solstice is a powerful night, especially for the Spring Court, but this Rite was birthed from dark magic centuries ago,” he said and slipped his hands into his pockets. “There are ways around it.”

I watched him walk away from me, lost in thought. My shoulders sagged while he listlessly checked in on my face then the distant drumming before coming to lean against a tree facing me. He blended into the shadows easily, night consuming his features. His violet eyes burned like dying stars. 

“What court are you from?” I whispered into the starlight between us.

For a second, I saw him - a glimpse of him, probably. I felt the glamour fall for a few precious seconds and his power was startling against my skin, like pins warning me to stay away. The night sky plunged to the earth, swelling around him as darkness seeped toward me. Stars sprinkled around his presence and his eyes - oh his eyes were other-worldly. “I am the High Lord of the Night Court,” he said, then lifted his glamour taking his astronomical presence with him. His head hung for a brief moment before he returned to watching the hills behind us.

Unconsciously I tugged on the bond and immediately there was a tug back.

“Do you know what this is, human girl?” he breathed, his words so quiet I almost didn’t hear them.

“Yes.” I didn’t hesitate.

His eyes fell shut. After a heavy breath he looked at me again. “No one can know this exists.”

“Why not?” I asked.

He started toward me, but saw me flinch and settled after a few steps. “This is incredibly dangerous.” He sighed and rubbed his neck.

Cradled between my hips, my hands were fidgeting unbeknownst to me. I swallowed a dry gulp feeling a cold sweat dotting my neck. I was at his mercy. Was Tamlin still hunting me? Did Lucien see what happened?

“Tamlin is still searching for you.” My head jerked toward him then to the drumming. “I’m going to keep you here until he moves on to someone else.”

My gut twisted at the idea of him settling for another woman.

“Even if he tried to be gentle with you tonight he would break you,” he went on. “You would not like it.”

I paled. He knew my innermost thoughts. Was this from the bond that secured us together? Would I never know privacy again? I exhaled and rubbed the back of my neck mirroring his gesture. He was watching me, his face rigid. Then slow claws tapped at my mind, slithering against my thoughts braiding into my head. I began to tremble and my fidgeting hands fell slack at my sides.

“It is not because of the bond that I know your thoughts.” And then the claws squeezed a quick embrace before I winced and the claws were gone. “I can teach you to shield your mind,” he paused going over something in his mind. “From me and anyone else with my kind of gifts.”

The idea of others preening into my thoughts disgusted me. I’d seen a few of the dangers around the Spring Court; the bogge still crept into my nightmares with its taunting fantasies and the Suriel whispered its ancient truths into my dreams.  _ Stay with the High Lord,  _ it had said when I’d trapped him in the forest on the outskirts of Tamlin’s estate. I’d been asking him about Tamlin, about how to escape and return home to my sisters and all he’d told me was  _ Stay with the High Lord. _

__ “What if Tamlin finds us?” I asked softly.

He turned his head. “I would winnow us away again. If it came to a fight I would win, but the consequences would be far too great.”

“What kind of consequences?” I walked over toward his tree he was still lingering around needing to put some distance between myself and the discarded contents of my stomach.

“It could start a war between our courts, though that’s not my main concern,” he said watching me near him. “It’s the attention it would bring that would do the most damage.”

I crouched at the trunk of the tree, bringing myself to sit at its base beside my friendly stranger.  _ My mate,  _ shuddered through me again, just as it had been doing since I’d first laid eyes on him earlier. “Why are you hiding from attention? Will your woman be upset?”

He made a displeased noise. “She is not my woman. She is my captor. The captor of Prythian. And she cannot know you exist -- cannot know we are mates.” The word purred off his tongue and rolled through the bond and slowly burned through my chest.

It was true. He was my mate.

He continued. “She would torture you. She would do despicable unthinkable things to you just to get to me. She would keep you alive as long as she could -- years even -- just to watch me suffer. Even if she found you in the Spring Court she would take you from Tamlin to torment him too…” He paused then, his face falling. His eyes darted to mine then he dropped down to sit at my side. “Why are you in Prythian, really?”

I considered lying, but no doubt he could just peruse through my thoughts to find the truth. Besides, there was something sour about the bond when I thought of lying to him --- especially now that I knew he knew of it too. “I killed one of Tamlin’s men... Tamlin burst into my family’s hovel the next day in the shape of a beast I’ve never seen before. He… he was going to kill me. A life for a life,” I murmured. His face was emotionless as I told my story. “But he offered me a loophole. He said I could come back to Prythian to give my life to him in exchange for the life I’d taken from him. At first I was constantly trying to escape, but well, the Spring Court has become homey. I was petrified of my sisters starving to death without me there to provide for them, but Tamlin saw to it that my father’s career was invested in and thus taken off to bring them their riches back. Supposedly they are doing extraordinarily well without me. It seems I don’t have a place with them anymore… But I’ve started to really enjoy being around Tamlin…” my voice wandered into thoughts of dinners and paintings and witty remarks. 

His face was blank staring at my own. Silence went on for minutes and I knew he wasn’t going to respond. Undoubtedly he was torn by the knowing that my life belonged to Tamlin because of my actions. I owed Tamlin so much. He’d housed me and provided something for my family I could never have done on my own. He had been so kind and so selfless. A part of me had wanted more from my relationship with Tamlin for a little while now. I could see myself opening up to his quiet sweetness, offering him pieces of myself the way he offered his home to me. But with this awoken bond it was difficult to picture anything beyond the eternal pull in my bones for the male faerie next to me.

In the stories I’d known the mating bond was coveted and respected as above the law. Surely Tamlin would understand, wouldn’t he? This thing I had was the material of myths and legends, respected and cherish even in my mortal world. Tamlin and I weren’t by any means committed to one another.

But then there was the matter of  _ him.  _ My mate. I didn’t even know him. My blood now called for me to be with him, but who was he? Was this bond to be trusted in that it knew what I needed even before my mind did? Before my heart? Was I to put myself in the hands of this stranger because of the magic of his people? I didn’t even know his name.

“Rhysand,” he said softly. He shifted his weight on the trunk of the tree and it was then that I noticed my head on his shoulder. I’d been so lost in thought I’d lulled myself towards sweet slumber. “And your name?”

“Feyre,” I said, lifting my head.

“Feyre,” he repeated with a small smile, as if tasting my name on his lips. A mirrored grin pulled across my face. He watched it form, studying it wordlessly. He reached out a hand and caressed my cheek with a single knuckle. My lips parted and his hand hovered there, but his features fell solemn. “Feyre, there are some things I can’t tell you. Important things that have to do with Amarantha.”

“Your captor?” I questioned.

He nodded and dropped his hand from my face. “I can’t tell you of her plans. I am bound by magic not to. But I will do anything I can to protect you. I won’t make you go back to Tamlin, but I can’t bring you back Under the Mountain with me. Amarantha would kill you. Slowly. Excruciatingly slowly. I can try to find another place for you to go, but it would be easy to go back to Tamlin. He might consider sending you back home with your sisters if you wish.”

I muddled that over. I’d never thought I would leave this night with him. With Rhysand. With my mate. But the idea of going back to Tamlin after meeting Rhysand seemed… colorless. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

I moved my legs out from under me and stretched them forward before pulling my knees up to my chest. The drums still pounded in the distance and the darkness around us had settled as the night grew deeper. Still the shadows seemed darkest around Rhysand. “When will I see you again? What will you do?”

He reached over to my folded legs letting his fingers drag down my skin. Thin hairs raised on tiny mountain peaks in his wake. “I will be bound to Amarantha for as long as she rules.”

“No,” I blurted surprising myself.

“No?” he countered.

“Tell me what I can do. Please,” I begged. “Anything.”

He watched me. Time stilled and I found myself growing edgy. My skin felt restless ready to jump toward the nearest scrap of information he could give me. He said nothing.

Finally, I spoke again. “Does Amarantha rule over Tamlin?”

He leaned his head back against the tree. “In a way.”

“Is she the one who cursed the masks onto his face and the faces of all the faeries in his court?” I prodded. 

He kept his eyes on the feathering leaves overhead. “Yes.”

I knew even when the thought went through my mind that it was pure stupidity, but I had to find a way to save them. Tamlin deserved freedom and happiness from his curse and Rhysand… Not only did I need Rhysand for myself --- for the bond that grew stronger and stronger the longer I sat in his presence, but he did not deserve to be caged.

My chest heaved as the cord pulled between us. His eyes had closed tight and he pulled his knees up to his chest as I had done, holding himself together.

And then it was like a floodgate opened. The cord dragged me through myself and into another world. There was a dark-haired woman wearing a deep velvet dress sitting high on a dias surrounded by hundred of people all laughing and dancing in swirls of color each wearing a mask. No one noticed I didn’t belong as I walked through the crowd not of my own will. Whispers and slurs and wicked hushed laughs touched my ears and wandering hands pet and groped my body.

“Rhysand,” a woman’s voice boomed through the crowd and the whispers roared before simmering into a hush. My body moved toward the throne.

I was in Rhysand’s body. In his memories.

“Come, stand at my side Rhysand,” Amarantha purred. She was strikingly plain for how I’d imagined a woman with the prowess to conquer the entirety of Prythian’s seven courts.

My body did as I was told without responding to her. If she noticed the apathy she didn’t show it as she moved on, addressing the crowd. “Thank you for coming everyone. As a gift to you all, I have a surprise to end the night. Oh Tamlin dear?”

Rhysand’s eyes found Tamlin quicker than I would have. He was in fine clothes of a bright green shade. I saw a glimpse of a large smile that had adorned his face before she’d called his name. It was gone now. Tamlin stepped forward, but said nothing.

She snapped her fingers and Tamlin collapsed. Fae screamed all over the room. Amarantha grinned. Rhysand didn’t even flinch.

“I’m so glad you deigned to come tonight Tamlin. My spell has been breathing in your essence, leaching you of power from the moment you wandered Under the Mountain…” Tamlin jerked his head up and a desperate rage warped his face. “Now I’m willing to forgive you of your history of misbehavior if you surrender to me immediately. What say you?”

“Never,” Tamlin growled. “I’d rather die than surrender myself or my people to you.”

“I thought you might say that. Let’s play a game then, shall we?”

Tamlin lunged for Amarantha with claws descending from his hands. Amarantha just turned to look at me -- at Rhysand. And then Tamlin was frozen feet away from them. He dropped to his knees clutching his head. 

Rhysand had stopped him.

“Alright then, now that’s out of your system here is how we play,” she crooned practically giggling with excitement. “You have seven times seven years to prove that with all your experience, your pitiful way of choosing a wife may actually work. You must find true love by the end of forty nine years or you are mine, forever. If you find true love before then, you and your people are free to do as you wish. What do you think?” She inclined her head toward his waiting for the obvious acceptance of her proposal.

It wasn’t until Tamlin dropped his head to the ground screams retching from him with pain that he finally choked out a reply. “Fine.”

Amarantha had the gall to clap her hands. “I’m so glad you agree. You see, in order to find  _ your way  _ of choosing a wife you’ll have to find a human woman, as I’m sure you expected since your late friend is gone now. But she has to be a human woman with such hate for faeries that she would murder one… Then turn around and love you.” Amarantha cackled as Rhysand withdrew his power from Tamlin who sunk to the ground. “Until then you will be trapped in your masks and disinvited from the rest of Prythian. Good luck, High Lord.”

And then I was gasping for breath back in my own body. “What was that?” I nearly shouted. My head was spinning.

Rhysand was looking far off into the shadows. “I’m bound by Amarantha not to speak of his curse or its solution,” he took a deep breath. “But you are my mate. You have entry into my mind and my heart and with my powers, even my memories.”

My legs flattened against the earth beneath me and I leaned my head back against the tree. I was a pawn and a key. Tamlin needed me to free himself and his people… But you can’t force love. It was strange feeling so close to Rhysand now as he sat next to me while in his memories he’d tortured Tamlin, hurt him. Led him to his slavery.

The drumming stopped.

“If you still want to go back to Tamlin, I’ve got to take you back to the Spring Court now. This is the only time I’ll be able to slip through the wards without him being around for it.” He was already standing, reaching his hand out for me and stuffing the other one into his pocket.

I searched his eyes for someone who would hurt me, for the person who forced Tamlin to bow to Amarantha as she tricked him into a curse that would last half a century. But his eyes, endless as the night sky, looked nothing but sad to me. 

“I’ve done many things to keep my people safe that I am not proud of,” he answered my thoughts. “But I will keep doing them. I will do anything to keep them all safe. You might see things from me that you do not like or that don’t seem right, but you’ll be able to feel me through the bond. You can speak to me there. Always.”

I reached for his hand and we were gone in a crash of shadows.


	3. Chapter 3

The house was silent when we appeared just inside the doorway to the gardens. The hair on my arms arose as magic swept past me, rippling outward.

Though I tried not to, I thought of the probable source and blushed, even as my chest tightened. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was past two in the morning.

Well, he’d certainly taken his time with the ritual, which meant the girl was probably beautiful and charming, and appealed to his  _ instincts. _

I wondered whether she was glad to be chosen. Probably. She’d come to the hill of her own free will. And after all, Tamlin was a High Lord, and it was a great honor. And I suppose Tamlin was handsome. Terribly handsome. Even though I couldn’t see the upper part of his face, his eyes were fine, and his mouth beautifully curved and full. And then there was his body, which was… was… 

Rhysand hissed beside me. I must have actually dozed off on the tree while we were out talking. I wondered how long I’d lay there with my head on his shoulder before he’d said anything. He was still in his all black clothes, his hands currently at home in his pockets. I tried not to look at him too long lest my thoughts on  _ his  _ body make their way through the bond.

Too late. Rhysand was grinning. 

I couldn’t help the twitch of my lips in return.

“I need to go. Tamlin is coming back,” he said, never taking his eyes off me.

My stomach growled. My nausea was long gone and I was due for a late night snack. Thoughts of what dinners would be like with Rhysand at his court floated through my mind. Would we have to eat by candlelight in perpetual darkness? Was the food there the same as here and in the mortal lands? Or would they only eat nocturnal beasts?

Rhysand’s grin never faded.

Despite the obvious logic, I asked him, “Must you go?”

He thought about this, tugging the bond playfully in a rhythm. “I can stay around the grounds until morning. But come first light I have to be back Under the Mountain.” His smile faded. He turned to look toward the stairs behind us. “There are people coming. Yank if you need me.”

And after one last look of his brilliant violet eyes, he was gone.

I made my way to the empty kitchen, never seeing any servants or possible guards that Rhysand spoke of, and gobbled down half a loaf of bread, an apple, and a lemon tart. I nibbled on a chocolate cookie as I walked to my little painting room. I wanted to get some images of swirling shadows and violet eyes out of my mind, even if I had to paint by candlelight, never mind how I would go about hiding them from Tamlin.

Would I need to hide this thing I have with Rhysand from Tamlin? A mating bond was extremely serious to the fae, but I hardly knew Rhysand. We’ve had two conversations. Tamlin rescued my family and gave me a new home. And then there was the matter of Tamlin’s curse… He needed me. His people needed me. It was all a little too much. I didn’t want to think about that. Not now.  Not yet.

I was about to turn down the hallway when a tall male figure appeared before me. The moonlight from the open window turned his mask silver, and his golden hair---unbound and crowned with laurel leaves gleamed.

“Going somewhere?” Tamlin asked. His voice not entirely of this world.

I suppressed a shudder. “Midnight snack,” I said, and I was keenly aware of every movement, every breath I took as I neared him.

His tunic covered in blood was gone now. His bare chest was painted with whorls of dark blue woad, and from the smudges in the paint, I knew exactly where he’d been touched. I tried not to notice that they descended past his muscled midriff.

I was about to pass him when he grabbed me, so fast that I didn’t see anything until he had me pinned against the wall. My blood pounded in my ears. The cookie dropped from my hand as he grasped my wrists. “What did he do to you?” he breathed, his painted chest rising and falling so close to mine. “You were mine. I’d chosen you. That bastard will pay.”

He reeked of magic. When I looked into his eyes, remnants of power flickered there. No kindness, none of the wry humor and gentle reprimands. The Tamlin I knew was gone.

“Let go,” I said as evenly as I could, but his claws punched out, imbedding in the wood above my hands. Still riding the magic, he was half-wild.

“You drove me mad,” he growled, and the sound trembled down my neck, along my breasts until they ached. “He stole you from me. I searched for you as long as I could,” he said, bringing his face closer to mine until we shared breath, “but it made me pick another.”

I couldn’t escape. I wasn’t entirely sure that I wanted to. My body was reacting to his intensity, yet all I could think about was Rhysand milling about in the shadows. Was he still here? Was he seeing this? Seeing me overpowered this way?

“She asked me not to be gentle with her, either,” he continued, his teeth bright in the moonlight. He brought his lips to my ear. “I would have been gentle with you, though.” I shuddered as I closed my eyes, hearing the echo of Rhysand’s words. Every inch of my body was taut with his words. “I would have had you moaning my name throughout it all. And I would have taken a very, very long time, Feyre.” He said my name like a caress, and his hot breath tickled my ear. My back arched slightly.

He ripped his claws free from the wall, and my knees buckled as he let go. I grasped the wall to keep from sinking to the floor, to keep from grabbing him---to strike or caress I didn’t know. I opened my eyes. He still smiled---smiled like an animal.

“Why would I want someone’s leftovers?” I said, pushing him away. He grabbed my hands and lunged his teeth for my neck.

I didn’t have time to loose the scream from my throat when he fell unconscious at my feet. My breathing labored as hard as it had after running all the way to the bonfire. I felt the sting of moisture behind my eyes, but shut them furiously.

Rhysand wasn’t disguising a morsel of his rage as he stood down the hall from us. I wasn’t sure when he got there or how much he had seen. Despite myself, I hoped not much. 

I considered saying thank you, but I couldn’t get my mouth to work right. Instead I made a lazy walk around Tamlin toward the dark Lord. He was barely watching me. Nostrils flaring, he was deep in thought staring at the High Lord of the Spring Court. He hardly noticed when I came close. Before I could talk myself out of it, I leaned against him, letting my head rest on his chest. I pulled my end of the bond softly and listened to his heartbeat.

His chest swelled then finally released a steady stream of breath before I felt his head fall onto mine.

“He was about to bite you,” he whispered.

I knew he was right, but I wasn’t sure how that made me feel. I’d been so aroused, but he’d been so forceful… I shuddered.

“It’s a big deal to male fae to bite the neck of a woman,” he continued, bringing an arm around my shoulders. “Especially for mates. A male’s bite is a claim. I’m sorry for interrupting, but the bond was full of fear so I came to you and then… I couldn’t let him bite you, Feyre. I’m sorry.” His shoulders deflated around me.

I didn’t respond. Didn’t move at all.

Eventually, Rhysand spoke again. “I have to leave soon it’s almost dawn.” And, as if suddenly aware of our goodbye, he brushed a hand through my hair and leaned in to really smell me, to take in my scent with his fae senses. “I can leave him like this, or I can make him believe whatever you’d like for him to believe. I can make him forget everything. I can make him walk himself back to his bed and wake up knowing none of this, or I can leave him here and leave his memories alone.”

I didn’t want to steal Tamlin’s memories. I didn’t want to manipulate him. But I also didn’t want to face him about Rhysand. Not yet. Not like this. He could see it as a betrayal. He could take everything from my family. He could take my life if he felt so inclined. I needed a solution. Something to buy me some time until I could free Rhysand and explain everything to Tamlin. And maybe I could free Tamlin too.

I looked up at Rhysand, fully aware of our still touching bodies. 

“I have a plan.”


	4. Chapter 4

I awoke when the sun was high, after tossing and turning all night, empty and aching.

The servants were sleeping in after their night of celebrating, so I made myself a bath and took a good, long soak. Try as I might to forget Tamlin pinning me to the wall last night, there was still a little ring of a bruise around one of my wrists. I took a deep breath and remembered my plan. Rhysand wouldn’t be able to leave Amarantha’s side again. This was all up to me. After bathing, I dressed and sat at the vanity to braid my hair. I swore I could see my pulse through the bruise on my neck.

Rhysand hadn’t been thrilled at the idea, but he’d done it and I couldn’t get the feeling of his lips on my skin out of my mind.

Tamlin had acted like a brute and a savage, and hopefully he’d come to his senses by this morning so he’d really be able to see what he’d done to me. Or at least what he thought he did to me.

Sniffing, I opened the collar of my blue tunic farther and tucked stray strands of my golden-brown hair behind my ears so there would be no concealing it. I was beyond cowering.

Humming to myself and swinging my hands, I strode downstairs and followed my nose to the dining room, where I knew lunch was usually served for Tamlin and Lucien. When I flung open the doors, I found them both sprawled in their chairs. I could have sworn that Lucien was sleeping upright, fork in hand.

“Good afternoon,” I said cheerfully, with and especially saccharine smile for the High Lord. He blinked at me, both of the faerie men murmured their greetings as I took a seat across from Lucien, not my usual place facing Tamlin.

I drank deeply from my goblet of water before piling food on my plate. I savored the tense silence as I consumed the meal before me.

“You look… refreshed,” Lucien observed with a glance at Tamlin. I shrugged. “Sleep well?”

“Like a babe.” I smiled at him and took another bite of food, and felt Lucien’s eyes travel inexorably to my neck.

“What is that bruise?” Lucien demanded.

I pointed with my fork to Tamlin. Time to see how well Rhysand’s magic really worked. “Ask him. He did it.”

Lucien looked from Tamlin to me and then back again. “Why does Feyre have a bruise on her neck from you?” he asked with no small amount of amusement.

“I bit her,” Tamlin said, not pausing as he cut his steak. “We ran into each other in the hall after the Rite.”   
I straightened in my chair.

“She seems to have a death wish,” he went on, and for the first time all day the bond groaned awake like a slow growl within me. Tamlin was cutting his meat, his claws stayed retracted but pushed against the skin of his knuckles. My throat closed up. Oh, he was mad - furious at my foolishness for leaving my room - but he somehow managed to keep his anger on a tight, tight leash. I idly wondered if that was Rhysand’s doing or Tamlin himself. “So, if Feyre can’t be bothered to listen to orders, then I can’t be held accountable for the consequences.”

I nearly spat my water in his face. 

“Accountable?” I sputtered, placing my hands flat on the table. “You cornered me in the hall like a wolf with a rabbit!” I shuddered to think what might have happened had Rhysand not been there.

Lucien propped an arm on the table and covered his mouth with his hand, his russet eye bright.

“While I might not have been myself, Lucien  _ and  _ I both told you to stay in your room,” Tamlin said, so calmly that I wanted to rip out my hair.

I couldn’t help it. Didn’t even try to fight the red-hot temper that razed my senses. “Faerie pig!” I yelled, and Lucien howled, almost tipping back in his chair. At the sight of Tamlin’s growing smile, I left.

I almost regret the plan I’d laid out with Rhysand. The way Tamlin ate up the lies was startling. Surely he was only so blind because of Rhysand’s changes to his memories. 

Surely.

I spent the rest of the afternoon painting little portraits of Tamlin and Lucien with pigs’ features.

 

*

 

Tamlin apologized at dinner. He even brought me a bouquet of white roses from his parents’ cherished garden, and after a grandier thank you, I made certain that Alis took good care of them when I returned to my room. She gave me only a wry nod before promising to set them in my painting room. I fell asleep with a smile still on my lips.

For the first time in a long, long while, I slept peacefully.

 

*

 

“Don’t know if I should be pleased or worried,” Alis said the next night as she slid the golden underdress over my upraised arms, then tugged it down.

I smiled a bit, marveling at the intricate metallic lace that clung to my arms and torso like a second skin before falling loosely to the rug. “It’s just a dress,” I said, lifting my arms again as she brought over the gossamer turquoise overgown. It was sheer enough to see the gleaming gold mesh beneath, and light and airy and full of movement, as if it flowed on an invisible current.

Alis just chuckled to herself and guided me over to the vanity to work on my hair. I didn’t have the courage to look at the mirror as she fussed over me.

“Does this mean you’ll be wearing gowns from now on?” she asked, separating sections of my hair for whatever wonders she was doing to it.

“No,” I said quickly. “I mean - I’ll be wearing my usual clothes during the day, but I thought it might be nice to try… try it out, at least for tonight.”   
“I see. Good that you aren’t losing your common sense entirely, then.”

I twisted my mouth to the side. 

When she finished my hair, I dared a glimpse at my reflection.

I hurried from the room before I could lose my nerve.

 

*

 

On my way downstairs I thought of Rhysand. I hoped he wasn’t going through anything too terrible wherever he was. I wondered if he remembered the vague details of my plan - if he even believed I could do it. If I could free Tamlin and Rhysand in one fell swoop. Probably not, the more I thought about it. He had to be centuries old while I hadn’t even lived for two decades yet. He was fae and full of magic and still couldn’t save himself or his people, what would some mortal girl be able to do?

A warmth budded in my chest and three gentle tugs came to me through the bond. What power this must be, this bond. It was obviously more than I could even begin to comprehend at this point. With just a tug, this immortal man placed his faith in me.

What power.

I had to keep my hands clenched at my sides to avoid wiping my sweaty palms on the skirts of my gown as I reached the dining room, and immediately contemplated bolting upstairs and changing into a tunic and pants. I mean, I didn’t  _ have  _ to specifically wear a dress for my plan to succeed did I? But I knew they’d already heard me, or smelled me, or used whatever heightened senses they had to detect my presence, and since fleeing would only make it worse, I found it in myself to push open the double doors.

Whatever discussion Tamlin and Lucien had been having stopped, and I tried not to look at their wide eyes as I strode to my new seat across from Lucien, at Tamlin’s side.

“Well, I’m late for something incredibly important,” Lucien said, and before I could call him on his outright lie or beg him to stay, the fox-masked faerie vanished.

I could feel the weight of Tamlin’s undivided attention on me - on every breath and movement I took. I studied the candelabras atop the mantel beside the table. The only thing I could think of to say would open a floodgate of all the details of what I knew about him and his curse. I would confess my bond with Rhysand and the lies I’d cooperated with in the last two days. Not even cooperated - orchestrated. This was for him, I told myself. I had to keep these things from him to save him from Amarantha and to free him. 

I needed him to love me.

“You look beautiful,” he finally said quietly. “I mean it,” he added when my mouth twisted to the side. “Didn’t you look in the mirror?”

Though Rhysand’s bruise still marred my neck, I  _ had  _ looked pretty. Feminine. I wouldn’t go so far as to call myself a beauty, but… I hadn’t cringed. A few months here had done wonders for the awkward sharpness and angles of my face. And I dared say that after Fire Night, some kind of light had crept into my eyes -  _ my  _ eyes, not my mother’s eyes or Nesta’s eyes.  _ Mine. _

“Thank you,” I said, and was grateful to avoid saying anything else as he served me and then himself. When my stomach was full to bursting, I dared to look at him - really  _ look  _ at him - again.

Tamlin leaned back in his chair, yet his shoulders were tight, his mouth a thin line. He hadn’t been called to the border in a few days - hadn’t come back weary and covered in blood like he had before Fire Night. And yet… He’d grieved that nameless Summer Court faerie he’d found dying with its hacked off wings. What grief and burdens did he bear for whoever else had been lost in this conflict - lost to what he’d been calling a blight on these lands, I now knew was Amarantha’s rule. High Lord was a position he’d said he hadn’t wanted or expected, yet he’d been forced to bear its weight as best he could.

“Come,” I said, rising from my chair and tugging on his hand. The calluses scraped against mine, but his fingers tightened as he looked up at me. “I have something for you.”

I led him eagerly to my painting room. When I’d moved to drop his hand, he held mine all the way into my small, locked room. I hadn’t ever dared to paint Rhysand or his shadows so I didn’t have to fear when Tamlin wandered through each of my paintings, finally choosing a melancholy piece I’d poured the loneliness of my life in the woods outside my mortal home, back when I had to hunt to survive.

I’d never yearned for anything more than to remove his mask in that moment - to see the face beneath, to find out whether it matched how I dreamed he looked.

“Tell me there’s some way to help you,” I breathed, aware of our nearness in the small quarters. “With the masks, with -” I stopped myself from saying Amarantha’s name. “With whatever threat has taken so much of your power. Tell me - just tell me what I can do to help you.” Let me in - let me in so I can tell you of my plan, so you can join Rhysand and I on the path to freedom.

“A human wishes to help a faerie?”

The picture of Rhysand’s memory flashed through my mind: Amarantha stating the mortal girl must hate faeries with all her heart before falling in love with him. Was I that girl? Had I held such hate in my heart? Was I so different now?

“Don’t - please,” I said. “Please just… tell me.”

“There’s nothing I want you to do, nothing you  _ can  _ do - or anyone. It’s my burden to bear.”

“You don’t have to -”

“I do. What I have to face, what I have to endure, Feyre… you would not survive.”

I shoved down my opposing feelings. “So you expect me to just live here forever in ignorance, completely unknowing to the true scope of what’s happening? Would you rather me just find somewhere else to live? Am I a burden to you?” I snapped, hoping he wouldn’t agree with that. I needed more time here in the Spring Court.

“Didn’t  _ Calanmai  _ teach you anything?”

“Only that magic makes you an asshole.”

He laughed, though not entirely with amusement. When I remained silent, he sighed. “No, I don’t want you to live somewhere else. I want you here, where I can look after you - where I can come home and know you’re here, painting and safe.”

I couldn’t look away from him. “I thought about sending you away at first,” he murmured. “Part of me still thinks I should have found somewhere else for you to live. But maybe I was selfish. Even when you made it so clear that you were more interested in ignoring the Treaty between humans and fae or finding a way out of it, I couldn’t bring myself to let you go - to find someplace else in Prythian where you’d be comfortable enough to not attempt to flee.”

Quiet visions of the stars and Rhysand’s smallest smile slipped into my thoughts, but I looked at Tamlin. My friend. “Why?”

He picked up the small painting of the frozen forest and examined it again. “I’ve had many lovers,” he admitted. “Females of noble birth, warriors, princesses…” Unexpected rage hit me, low and deep in the gut at the thought of them - rage at their titles, their undoubtedly good looks, at their closeness to him.  _ Friend,  _ I reminded myself. I’d just called him my friend. Right after I’d been thinking of Rhysand. Who was I to be angry of Tamlin’s other women. “But they never understood. What it was like, what it  _ is  _ like, for me to care for my people, my lands. What scars are still there, what the bad days feel like.” He smiled at my painting. “This reminds me of it.”

“Of what?” I breathed.

He lowered the painting, looking right at me, right into me. “That I’m not alone.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

The next afternoon I lay on my back in the grass, savoring the warmth of the sunshine filtering through the canopy of leaves, noting how I might incorporate it into my next painting. Lucien, claiming that he had miserable emissary business to attend to, had left Tamlin and me to our own devices, and the High Lord had taken me to yet another beautiful spot in his enchanted forest.

I wished Rhysand could see this. The bond was mostly dormant since I’d last seen him, the newness and the distance making it weak, but I knew even without his playful pulls that he would find it funny the way they played matchmaker in the Spring Court - forcing Tamlin and I alone together as much as possible. Though I would laugh along with Rhysand, I also wouldn’t say I was complaining. I was enjoying Tamlin’s friendship, despite knowing I was riding a fine line.

There were no enchantments here - no pools of starlight and no rainbow waterfalls like the other stops on Tamlin’s romantic tour of his homeland. It was just a grassy glen watched over by a weeping willow, with a clear brook running through it. We lounged in comfortable silence, and I glanced at Tamlin, who dozed beside me. His golden mask glistened bright against the emerald carpet. The delicate arch of his pointed ears made me pause.

He opened an eye and smiled lazily at me. “That willow’s singing always puts me to sleep.”

“The what of what?” I said, propping myself on my elbows to stare at the tree above us.

Tamlin pointed toward the willow tree. The branches sighed as they moved in the breeze. “It sings.”

“I suppose it performs limericks, too?”

He smiled and half sat up, twisting to look at me. “You’re human,” he said, and I rolled my eyes. “Your senses are still sealed off from everything.”

I made a face. “Just another one of my many shortcomings.” 

He plucked a strand of grass from my hair. Heat radiated from my face as his fingers grazed my cheek. “I could make you able to see it,” he said. His fingers lingered at the end of my braid, twirling the curl of hair around. I thought of Rhysand holding my hair back while I wretched and tugged at the bond in my chest. “See my world - hear it, smell it.” My breathing became shallow as I sat up. “Taste it.” His eyes flicked to the fading bruise on my neck.

My pull was returned by a soft squeeze. I exhaled deeply. “How?” I asked, heat blooming as he crouched before me.

“Every gift comes with a price.” I frowned, and he grinned. “A kiss.”

“Absolutely not!” The bond went slack, but my blood raced. I had to clench my hands in the grass to keep from touching him. “Don’t you think it puts me at a disadvantage to not be able to see all this?”

“I’m one of the High Fae - we don’t give anything without gaining something from it.”

I thought of Rhysand, of what he might think of this. Part of me felt wrong, so wrong, for being here enjoying Tamlin’s company so much when I knew I had a mate. A mate who was under the thumb of a woman who let people spit at him and grope him in a crowd. And then I was cold. I reached for the bond and pulled, but there was no response.

Steadying my resolve, sticking to the plan, I said, “Fine.”

He blinked, probably expecting me to have fought much harder. I sat up so I faced him, our knees touching as we knelt in the grass. “Close your eyes,” he said, and I obeyed, my fingers grappling into the grass. The birds chattered, and the willow branches sighed. The grass crunched as Tamlin rose up on his knees. I braced myself at the brush of his mouth on one of my eyelids, then on the other. He pulled away, and I was left breathless, the kisses still lingering on my skin.

The singing of the birds became an orchestra - a symphony of gossip and mirth. I’d never heard so many layers of music, never heard the variations and themes that wove between their arpeggios. And beyond the birdsong, there was an ethereal melody - a woman, melancholy and weary… the willow. Gasping, I opened my eyes.

The world had become richer, clearer. The brook was a near-invisible rainbow of water that flowed over the stones as invitingly smooth as silk. The trees were clothed in a faith shimmer than radiated from their centers and danced along the edges of their leaves. There was no tangy metallic stench - no, the smell of magic had become like jasmine, like lilac, like roses. I would never be able to paint it, the richness, the feel… Maybe fractions of it, but not the whole thing.

Magic - everything was magic, and it broke my heart.

I looked to Tamlin, and my heart cracked entirely.

It was Tamlin, but not. Rather, it was the Tamlin I’d dreamed of. His skin gleamed with a golden sheen, and around his head glowed a circlet of sunshine. And his eyes… 

Not merely green and gold, but every hue and variation that could be imagined, as though every leaf in the forest had bled into one shade.  _ This  _ was a High Lord of Prythian - devastatingly handsome, captivating, powerful beyond belief.

What it would be like to see Rhysand this way.

Then suddenly, the golden, glowing Tamlin vanished, and the one I knew returned. I could still hear the singing of the willow and the birds, but… 

“Why can’t I see you anymore?”

“Because I willed my glamour back into place.”

“Glamour for what?”

“To look normal. Or as normal as I can look with this damned thing,” he added, gesturing to the mask. “Being a High Lord, even one with… limited powers, comes with physical markers, too. It’s why I couldn’t hide what I was becoming from my brothers - from anyone. It’s easier to blend in with a glamour.”

“Do you only glamour yourself?” I asked.

“For you, I’ve glamoured everything. I felt it would be easier not to overwhelm you that way.”

“Everything?” I held my voice steady, trying not to growl. He’d hidden the music of the world from me? He’d kept me in the dark when there was so much light around me… 

“What about your part of the bargain?” he asked, changing the subject.

A yawn crept from me as a sudden weight pressed on my eyelids. “What?”

He leaned closer, his smile turning wicked. “What about my kiss?”

I grabbed his fingers. “Here,” I said and slammed my mouth against the back of his hand. “There’s your kiss.”

Tamlin roared with laughter, but the world blurred lulling me to sleep. The willow beckoned me to lie down, and I obliged. I felt a slight thud in the earth, and the spring rain and new grass scent of him cloyed in my nose as he lay beside me. I tingled with pleasure as he stroked my hair.

This was such a lovely dream. I’d never slept so wonderfully before. So warm, nestled beside him. Calm. Faintly, echoing into my world of slumber, he spoke again his breath caressing my ear.  “You’re exactly as I dreamed you’d be.”

Darkness swallowed everything.

 

*

 

I was furious. I’d awoken the next morning to a complete stranger in my room who turned out to be the same woman who had been caring for me since I’d arrived months ago. I hadn’t recognized her because she had been glamoured. Everything had been glamoured. The moment I left my room there were people - faeries - everywhere. The hallways were bustling with masked faeries I’d never seen before. Some were tall and humanoid - High Fae like Tamlin - and others were… not. I tried to avoid looking at those ones, as they seemed the most surprised to notice my attention.

I was almost shaking by the time I reached the dining room. Lucien, mercifully, appeared like Lucien. I didn’t ask whether that was because Tamlin had informed him to put up a better glamour or because he didn’t bother trying to be something he wasn’t.

Tamlin lounged in his usual chair but straightened as I lingered in the doorway. I could have spat on him from across the room. “What’s wrong?”

“Tell me all these faeries just arrived last night.” I’d almost yelped when I looked out my bedroom window and spotted all the faeries in the garden. Many of them - all with insect masks - pruned the hedges and tended the flowers. Those faeries had been the strangest of all, with their iridescent, buzzing wings sprouting from their backs. And, of course, then there was the green-and-brown skin, and their unnaturally long limbs, and -

Tamlin bit his lip as if to keep from smiling. “They’ve been here all along.”

I clenched my teeth so hard I thought I’d break at least one. “But I never heard anything.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Lucien drawled, and twirled one of his daggers between his hands. “We made sure you couldn’t see or hear anyone but those who were necessary.”

I could burn them alive with the rage puddling in my gut. I closed my eyes and took a breath thinking back to the night a creature that made you see what you wanted most had come to the manor in the shape of my limping father, come to rescue me. I’d sprinted from my room and barrelled down the stairs only for Tamlin to stop me from walking straight into a trap. The creature, the puca, had fled and I was left shaken to my core. After a second breath I opened my eyes and adjusted the lapels of my tunic. “So you mean to tell me that when I ran after the puca that night…” 

“You had an audience,” Lucien finished for me.

All this time I’d thought I’d been so stealthy. Meanwhile, I’d been tip-toeing past faeries who had probably laughed their heads off at the blind human.

I was mortified.

Tamlin’s lips twitched and he clamped them tightly together, but the amusement still danced in his eyes as he nodded. “It  _ was  _ a valiant effort.”

_ Valiant effort.  _ I could barely see straight. I wanted to rip the cheeky grins right off their faerie faces. Without another word I turned from the room and decided to spend the entire day alone in my room.

 

*

 

The next morning I found a head in the garden.

A bleeding male High Fae head - spiked atop a fountain statue of a great heron flapping its wings. The stone was soaked in enough blood to suggest that the head had been fresh when someone had impaled it on the heron’s upraised bill.

I had been hauling my paints and easel out to the garden to paint one of the beds of irises when I stumbled across it. My tins and brushes had clattered to the gravel. A small scrap of paper appeared before me. Floating in the air. I wasn’t sure if it was more or less shocking than the ruby blood rushing down from the severed head onto the gray stone. I seized it immediately and saw the scribbles on it. I knew I wouldn’t be able to make sense of them, my greatest shortcoming showing its ugly head, but I would try to find a way to decode the shapes into letters and words. Tamlin would never involve me, so I would involve myself. I stuffed the parchment into my pocket and beheld the maskless face contorted into a gruesome, unnatural shape.

I backed away a step - and slammed into something warm and hard.

I whirled, hands rising out of instinct, but Tamlin’s voice said, “It’s me,” and I stopped cold. Had he seen the note? Lucien stood beside him, pale and grim.

“Not Autumn Court,” Lucien said. “I don’t recognize him at all.”

Tamlin’s hands clamped on my shoulders as I turned back toward the head. “Neither do I.” A soft, vicious growl laced his words, but no claws pricked my skin as he kept gripping me. His hands tightened, though, while Lucien stepped into the small pool in which the statue stood - striding through the red water until he peered up at the anguished face.

“They branded him behind the ear with a sigil,” Lucien said, swearing. “A mountain with three stars -”

“Night Court,” Tamlin said too quietly.

My mouth went dry. The Night Court - the northernmost bit of Prythian, if I recalled the mural’s map from within Tamlin’s study correctly. A land of darkness and starlight. Rhysand’s land. “Why… why would they do this?” I breathed.

_ I’ve done many things that I’m not proud of to keep the people I love safe,  _ he’d said to me. A warning. Did he know something like this would happen? Was this what the Night Court was like? What Rhysand was like?  _ You might see things from me that you do not like or that don’t seem right, but you’ll be able to feel me through the bond. You can speak to me there, always. _

Yet I’d never been able to speak to him through the bond. Not really. We’d exchanged a handful of tugs since I’d last seen him, but that felt so far off now.

Tamlin let go of me, coming to stand at my side as Lucien climbed the statue to remove the head. I looked toward a blossoming crabapple tree instead.

“The Night Court does what it wants,” Tamlin said. “They live by their own codes, their own corrupt morals.”

“They’re all sadistic killers,” Lucien said. I dared a glance at him; he was now perched on the heron’s stone wing. I looked away again. “They delight in torture of every kind - and would find this sort of stunt to be amusing.”

I scanned the garden for Rhysand, part of me terrified and another part hoping to see my mate in the shadows. “Amusing, but not a message?”

“Oh, it’s a message,” Lucien said, and I cringed at the thick, wet sounds of flesh and bone on stone as he yanked the head off. I’d skinned enough animals, but this… Tamlin put another hand on my shoulder. “To get in and out of our defences, to possibly commit the crime nearby, with the blood this fresh…” A splash as Lucien landed in the water again. “It’s exactly what the High Lord of the Night Court would find amusing. The bastard.”

Despite my disgust over the head, I had to hold back a growl from deep in the bond for the insult. I’d never felt so conflicted. Maybe when it came to Nesta, my eldest sister, whom I both loved and hated with her bitter snarling ways - three years my elder but couldn’t seem to be bothered to help me provide for us all. Always ready to snap at me for any minor crime. My big sister, my biggest antagonist.

Now here I was wanting to defend my mate after he’d murdered someone and staked their head on a fountain. Who was I anymore?

I looked to the house, knowing this wasn’t the first time Rhysand had snuck in unbeknownst to Tamlin. I couldn’t imagine what they’d do if they knew what he’d done the last time he was here - how easily he’d incapacitated Tamlin without him even noticing his presence. He could have probably killed him. I shivered.

Tamlin brushed a thumb against my shoulder. “You’re still safe here. This was just their idea of a prank.”

“This isn’t connected to the…  _ blight? _ ” I asked.

“Only in that they know the blight is awakening - and want us to know they’re circling the Spring Court like vultures, should our wards fall further.” I don’t know what Tamlin saw on my face but he added, “I won’t let that happen.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell them nothing could be done, but they knew that. They knew Amarantha was coming for them and if this was a warning then perhaps that meant time was running out. I wondered if my plan would work with such a limited time frame. I looked to Tamlin and wondered if he felt strongly enough about me already for this to work.

Lucien splashed out of the fountain, but I couldn’t look at him, not with the head he bore, the blood surely on his hands and clothes. “They’ll get what’s coming to them soon enough. Hopefully the blight will wreck them, too.” I cringed, knowing  _ the blight  _ was already wrecking them, judging from Rhysand’s words. Tamlin growled at Lucien to take care of the head, and the gravel crunched as Lucien departed.

I crouched to pick up my paints and my brushes, my hands shaking as I fumbled for a large brush.  _ What are you doing, Rhysand?  _ Tamlin knelt next to me, but his hands closed around mine, squeezing.

“You’re still safe,” he said again. The Suriel’s command echoed through my mind again.  _ Stay with the High Lord. You will be safe. _

I nodded.

“It’s court posturing,” he said. “The Night Court is deadly, but this was only their lord’s idea of a joke. Attacking anyone here - attacking you - would cause more trouble than it’s worth for him.” I didn’t bother mentioning the conflict on Fire Night as I wondered how that seemed to have been swept under the rug. Perhaps that was Rhysand’s doing as well. What a puppetmaster my  _ mate  _ seemed to be. I started to sweat while Tamlin continued, “If the blight truly does harm these lands, and the Night Court enters our borders, we’ll be ready.”

I doubted it, but okay.


	6. Chapter 6

Tamlin was called away to the borders just hours after I’d found the head and he’d been gone overnight. He wouldn’t tell me what was going on but I’d learned to expect as much. I wasn’t too worried about it anyway, I had enough on my plate to think about. I spent the day in my room alone with my thoughts.

I wasn’t sure what was happening between Tamlin and I anymore. One moment I was screaming at him and the next I was craving his touch. He kept things from me and made decisions for me, but he constantly took me to new places for me to paint and had been so moved by my painting of the forest back home… He was protective which meant he cared deeply for me, right? But was there even any point in growing any feelings for Tamlin when I knew I had a mate - that I had an ancient connection with an immortal being that ran deeper than any love a mortal could fathom.

But was a mating bond enough? Would I ever love Rhysand? Was it worth discounting everything Tamlin offered to wait for Rhysand? I thought back to the pull I’d felt that night. Just the memories lit the flame in my chest and I felt the bond come to life from where it rest. It was magic. It had to be. It made me so vulnerable, so open and trusting. So easily hurt.

It seemed that no matter what fate I chose, I would lose. One way or another my mortal heart would be shattered.

I sighed and rolled over in my bed and heard a crackle from my pocket.

The note.

I’d almost forgotten about the note that appeared to me with the head. The note I should have just given to Tamlin. It probably had a death threat for him that he would now know nothing about and would soon walk straight into a trap. I muttered a curse under my breath and pulled out the small piece of paper.

“I-it… It’s…” I whispered, frustrated. “N-no… No-not wha-what… It’s not what… Y-you… Th-thi… Thin-think… It’s not what you think,” I finally mumbled. Why would the Night Court tell Tamlin that the severed head… Oh. This was from Rhysand. A hand flew to my chest as the cord suddenly went taut for the first time since I’d last seen him. I wish this was easier. I wish I knew what to do. I wish I could at least respond, dammit.

A pen appeared in front of me and I yipped in surprise.

Too bad I can’t do anything with this. Turmoil sank in me, knowing that I could be communicating with Rhysand for the first time since Fire Night but I was too stupid.

_ You are hardly what I would call stupid,  _ said a voice in my head. I nearly peed my pants. The voice chuckled. Not just a voice - Rhysand’s voice.

Overwhelming relief flooded through me. I couldn’t believe how much I’d missed that voice - the voice I’d only heard for one day but was easily a part of me now. The bond flooded with warmth.

_ I don’t have much time, Feyre,  _ I closed my eyes as he said my name.  _ It’s a risk for me to talk to you this way, but… it’s been getting hard - on the bond - to be without you. I sent you the note but didn’t get a response. I was just checking in on you when you were reading it. _

I blushed. He’d listened to me sounding out his short, little note like a child.

_ I can teach you, but that will be another time…  _ There wasn’t an ounce of condescension in his voice.  _ You can mentally respond, Feyre. _

I sat up and sucked in a breath.  _ I missed you,  _ I said before I could think about it too long.

_ It’s strange, isn’t it? That I feel as though I’ve loved you all my life but in reality I know little of you. _

I was holding my breath, my head growing fuzzy as I forced an exhale.  _ Yes, quite strange… What was that today? _

_ It’s complicated…  _ he said, his inner voice quiet in my head. _ But I will say that man felt no pain. When Amarantha bids me to tasks like these, I do what I can to choose those who have committed enough crimes, they deserved such a fate. And even then I usually protect their minds from the pain. _

I didn’t know what to say to that. He was the most powerful being I’d ever known and yet he was a slave. I felt a small crack shudder through my heart.

_ I’ll be seeing you soon,  _ his voice continued but I knew he’d heard my thoughts. _ Amarantha has a plan to send me to check on Tamlin. His time is running out. _

_ How much longer?  _ I asked through the bond.

_ Less than a week,  _ he answered. I paled. Did Tamlin love me? If he didn’t would he in a week?  _ I’m going to be coming to the Spring Court. I’ll be coming as a dark lord, to intimidate Tamlin… _

I realized in his silence that he was asking me to understand - that this dark lord persona was an act, an armor of protection against anyone who might dare to come to close. A weapon against Amarantha. A weapon to protect the truth.

_ Tell me about those you love, _ I whispered to the bond.

A warm presence pulled me through the bond.  _ I can’t wait for you to meet them…  _ he trailed off.

After a moment, after I thought he was surely gone, he said,  _ I haven’t forgotten about you for a moment. This bond has kept me going, Feyre… I hope I can earn back any respect you lose for me throughout this. _

Before I could stop to connect the dots I responded,  _ We are both playing a game of lies to protect and save people we care about. I’m ashamed of what I’m trying to do to Tamlin every day, but he can’t know of my knowledge of his curse or of my plan. If it’s going to be worth it, he can’t know. You are doing what you have to, I understand that. _

Neither of us said anything after that. Night had settled in around me and I felt sleep beckoning. Just as I shut my eyes for the last time that night I heard him one last time, softer than anything he’d said before.

_ I’ll see you soon, Feyre. _

 

*

 

I awoke the next day to the sound of merry fiddling, and when I looked out the window I found the garden bedecked in ribbons and streamers. On the distant hills, I spied the makings of fires and maypoles being raised. When I asked Alis she simply said, “Summer Solstice. The main celebration used to be at Summer Court, but… things are different. So now we have one here, too. You’re going.”

Summer - in the weeks that I’d been painting and dining with Tamlin and wandering around the court lands at his side, summer had come. Did my family still truly believe me to be visiting some long-lost aunt like Tamlin glamoured them to believe? What were they doing with themselves? If it was the solstice, then there would be a small gathering in the village center - nothing religious, of course; just some shared food, donated ale from the solitary tavern, and maybe some line dances. The only thing to celebrate was a day’s break from the long summer days of planting and tilling. From the decorations around the estate, I could tell this would be something far grander - far more spirited.

Tamlin remained gone for most of the day. Worry gnawed at me even as I painted a quick, loose rendering of the streamers and ribbons in the garden. Idly, I’d hoped that this night would be similar to Fire Night, in that this would be when Rhysand would come, though perhaps that was selfish of me seeing as he was being sent to give Tamlin an unwelcome message.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that I heard Tamlin’s deep voice and Lucien’s braying laugh echo through the halls all the way to my painting room. Relief sent my chest caving in, but as I rushed to find them, Alis yanked me upstairs. She stripped off my paint-splattered clothes and insisted I change into a flowingm cornflower blue chiffon gown. She left my hair unbound but wove a garland of pink, white, and blue wildflowers around the crown of my head.

I might have felt childish with it on, but in the months I’d been there, my sharp bones and skeletal form had filled out. A woman’s body. I ran my hands over the sweeping, soft curves of my waist and hips. I had never thought I would feel anything but muscle and bone.

“Caldron boil me,” Lucien whistled as I came down the stairs. “She looks positively Fae.”

I was too busy looking Tamlin over - scanning for any injury, any sign of blood or mark that an enemy might have left - to thank Lucien for his compliment. But Tamlin was clean, almost glowing, completely unarmed - and smiling at me. Whatever he’d gone to deal with had left him unscathed. “You look lovely,” Tamlin murmured.

I squared my shoulders, disinclined to let him see how much his words or voice or sheer well-being impacted me. Not yet. “I’m surprised I’m even allowed to participate tonight.”

“Unfortunately for you and your neck,” Lucien countered, “tonight’s just a party.”

I blushed, thinking of Rhysand. I wrapped myself around the bond and immediately felt his presence respond.

“Do you lie awake at night to come up with all your witty replies for the following day?”

Lucien winked at me, and Tamlin laughed and offered me his arm. “He’s right,” the High Lord said. I was aware of every inch where we touched, of the hard muscles beneath his green tunic. He led me into the garden, and Lucien followed. “Solstice celebrates when day and night are equal - it’s a time of neutrality, when everyone can take down their hair and simply enjoy being a faerie - not High Fae or faerie, just  _ us _ , and nothing else.”

“So there’s singing and dancing and excessive drinking,” Lucien chimed in, falling into step beside me. “And dallying,” he added with a wicked grin.

Indeed, every brush of Tamlin’s body against mine made it harder to avoid the urge to lean into him. He was so comfortable to be around. My borderline friend. Borderline more.

The sun was beginning its final descent when we reached the plateau on which the festivities were to be held. I tried not to gawk at the faeries gathered, even as I was in turn gawked at by them. I’d never seen so many in one place before, at least not without the glamour hiding them from me - Tamlin hiding them from me. Their exquisite dresses and lithe forms were shaped and colored and built so strangely and differently - they were a marvel to behold. Yet what little novelty my own presence by the High Lord’s side offered soon wore off - helped by a low, warning growl from Tamlin that sent the others scattering to mind their own business.

Table after table of food had been lined up along the far edge of the plateau, and I lost Tamlin while I waited in line to fill a plate, leaving me to try my best not to look like I was some human plaything of his. Music started near the giant, smoking bonfire - fiddles and drums and merry instruments that had me tapping my feet in the grass. Light and joyous and open, the mirthful sister to the bloodthirsty Fire Night.

I was pouring myself a goblet of golden sparkling wine, trying to nonchalantly search the crowd for Rhysand, when Lucien finally appeared behind me, peering over my shoulder. “I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.”

“Oh?” I said, frowning at the fizzing liquid.

“Faerie wine at the Solstice,” Lucien hinted.

“Hmm,” I said, taking a sniff. It didn’t reek of alcohol. In fact, it smelled like summers spent lying in the grass and bathing in cool pools. I’d never smelled anything so fantastic.

“I’m serious,” Lucien said as I lifted the glass to my lips, brows raised. “Remember the last time you ignored my warning?” He poked me in the neck, and I batted his hand away.

“I also remember you telling me how witchberries were harmless, and the next thing I knew, I was half-delirious and falling all over myself,” I said, recalling the afternoon from a few weeks ago. I’d had hallucinations for hours afterward, and Lucien had laughed himself sick - enough so that Tamlin had chucked him into the reflection pool. I shook away the thought. Today - let caution be damned. Forget Amarantha. Forget Tamlin. 

I couldn’t bring myself to forget Rhysand. I hoped wherever this drink took me that he would be there.

“Well, I mean it this time,” Lucien said, and I shifted my goblet out of his reach. “Tam would gut me if he caught you drinking that.”

“Always looking after your best interests,” I said, and pointedly chugged the contents of the glass.

It was like a million fireworks exploding inside me, filling my veins with starlight. I laughed aloud, and Lucien groaned.

“Human fool,” he hissed. But his glamour had been ripped away. His auburn hair burned like hot metal and his russet eye smoldered like a bottomless forge.  _ That  _ was what I would capture next.

“I’m going to paint you,” I said, and giggled - actually  _ giggled  _ \- as the words popped out.

“Cauldron boil and fry me,” he muttered, and I laughed again. Before he could stop me, I downed another glass of faerie wine. It was the most glorious thing I’d ever tasted. It liberated me from bonds I hadn’t known existed.

The music became a siren song. The melody was my lodestone, and I was powerless against its lure. With each step, I savored the dampness of the grass beneath my bare feet. I didn’t remember when I’d lost my shoes.

I stumbled, blinking, and found myself standing at the edge of the ring of dancing. I swayed on my feet watching the faeries dance. It’s like they were as loose as I was. Free. I loved them for it.

“Damn it, Feyre,” Lucien said, gripping my elbow. “Do you want me to kill myself trying to keep you from impaling your mortal hide on another rock?”

“What?” I said, turning to him. The whole world turned with me, delightful and entrancing.

“Idiot,” he said when he looked at my face. “Drunken idiot.”

The tempo increased.

“Feyre, stop,” Lucien said, and grabbed me again. I’d been dancing away, and my body was still swaying toward to pull.

“ _ You  _ stop. Stop being so serious,” I said, shaking him off. I wanted to hear the music. I skipped between dancers, twirling my skirts.

“I’m sorry, Tam,” I heard Lucien pant. “I left her alone for a little at one of the food tables and when I caught up with her she was drinking the wine, and -”

Tamlin appeared beside me, his golden hair damp with sweat. He looked marvelously handsome - even though I couldn’t see most of his face. He gave me a feral smile as we danced together. “I’ll look after her,” Tamlin said above the music, and I glowed, my dancing becoming faster. “Go enjoy yourself.”

Lucien fled.

I shouted over the music, “I don’t need a keeper!” I wanted to spin and spin and spin.

“No, you don’t,” Tamlin said. “Dance with me, Feyre,” he whispered.

So I did.

I had become the music and there was nothing that could slow me down. There was pressure on my waist, and I was swept away in his arms. He whisked me into the ring of dancing and I laughed so hard I thought I’d combust. When I opened my eyes, they met Tamlin’s as he spinned me around and around and around.

When the song came to a close Tamlin led me get another glass of wine for us both. We downed each of our glasses together and he leaned in close to me, his breath caressing the shell of my ear as he whispered, “I want to show you something.”

I didn’t object.

He led me off the hill, navigating by moonlight. Suddenly there was little blackness, emptiness with no sound, then I saw the path again.

“Here,” Tamlin said, pausing at the edge of a vast meadow. But I couldn’t make words come out. His hand lingered on my shoulder as we looked out.

He was waiting for something to happen, but I was suddenly so heavy.

He turned to face me and I stared at his eyes, then his lips.

Then they were crashing into mine, heat pounding through the soft skin as our mouths connected and we shared breath. His hands were on me and I felt my eyes roll back lazily, like a slur.

I heard myself moan.

Then blackness surrounded me.

Then there was light and sounds of ragged breaths. The trees spun around me in the starlight. I heard my dress tear and looked down to see it hanging from my shoulder. I felt him then, his body against mine. Heat boiled through me. I’d imagined myself with Tamlin before, but… not like this. I was going to be sick from the spinning world around me. There was sweat on every pore of my body, a stifling sweat that suffocated my skin. I grunted in discomfort and opened my mouth to tell him… but his mouth was suddenly there, kissing my words away.  _ Not like this,  _ I tried to say.  _ Tamlin, let go. Let go of me.  _ Nausea gripped me and I felt the recognizable burn in my throat.

Then there was blackness.

Then there was light. Tamlin’s hair spilled on my face. My body was hot and moving. “What… No,” I tried to whisper. But he did not hear me. He did not stop. I struggled to move but my muscles weren’t there. I couldn’t find my hands to push him away. My body was a blur and nausea swirled through my vision again.

Then blackness.

Then light. I couldn’t remember when I’d moved to the ground. Colors blurred around me, everything was out of focus. Then there was pressure and a familiar pain. Then a kiss. I remembered where I was, what was happening. There was a beast on top of me that wouldn’t let me go.

Blackness again.

Then a brief light of spilled colors and sickly sweet pleasure, spilling through my bones.

Then the blackness ate me whole.


	7. Chapter 7

I awoke the next morning to Alis in my room, telling me it was nearly time for lunch. I’d slept all morning. Despite barely remembering the party, I didn’t have a drop of a headache. I groaned at the woman and sat up in bed, only to realize I wasn’t dressed. In anything.

Alis stifled a laugh. “You left quite the grass stains in your dress,” she said before slipping out of the room.

I sat frozen, remembering. Trying to remember. I was naked. I’d been brought home naked. I remembered dancing in complete freedom and then… I was in and out of blackness. I scooted across to the edge of the bed and felt an ache in between my legs I hadn’t felt since the boy I’d meet at the stabled back in the mortal world.

Oh, no.

No no no no no.

But there was no denying it.

I felt the sting of tears in my eyes. Panic filled my lungs. 

Tamlin. Oh, Tamlin, no. What did you do?

My breaths came faster and faster, the room getting smaller and smaller. I fell back into bed, pulled the blanket over my naked body, and squeezed my knees to my chest.

Please, no. 

My chest heaved. I felt the bond build into a deep burn but it paled in comparison to the savage breaths spiraling out of me. I tried to calm myself. I tried to think of the plan. I tried to think of the good I was trying to do. I tried, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t think of anything but the touches on my body I didn’t know about. 

What good was the plan after this? I couldn’t fight for Tamlin, not anymore.

It hurt to think about him.

Everything hurt.

_ I’m coming,  _ I heard between my sobs.  _ I’m coming now, Feyre. Hold on. _

Rhysand.

For Rhysand, I dragged myself up from the shelter of my bed, bathed, and put on the heaviest tunic I could find with a pair of long pants. I stood at the doorway too long, a few helpless tears falling from my eyes, before I finally found the courage to step out into the hallway.

It was a long trek to the dining room.

I didn’t make eye contact when I entered the room and I sat at my old seat across the table from Tamlin. Lucien was joining us today. He rubbed his temples as he ate, unusually quiet.

We ate for minutes in silence. No one greeted me. I said nothing. I couldn’t bring myself to lift my head at all, lest I lay eyes on Tamlin - I wasn’t sure I could stomach it.

Lucien shifted in his seat. “My contact at the Winter Court managed to get a letter to me.” Lucien took a steadying breath, and I tried to muster the strength to pay attention. This would be the first time they’d ever really spoken business around me. I moved in my seat and felt the sting of pain - unwanted pain. I didn’t bother to look at Tamlin’s reaction. “The  _ blight _ ,” Lucien said softly. “It took out two dozen of their younglings.  _ Two dozen _ , all gone.” He swallowed. “It just… burned through their magic, then broke apart their minds. No one in the Winter Court could do anything - no one could stop it once it turned its attention toward them. Their grief is… unfathomable. My contact says other courts are being hit hard - though the Night Court, of course, manages to remain unscathed. But the blight seems to be sending its wickedness this way - farther south with every attack.”

I was tired - so tired. “Why don’t you guys just call the blight by her name and stop with this childish hide and seek with me? I’m honestly sick of it,” I breathed in a heavy sigh, the bite in my words obviously startling them.

I wouldn’t look at Tamlin.

He shot to his feet so quickly his chair flipped over, and honestly I’d thought he was attacking me. I wouldn’t be surprised at this point. He could do his worst. He unsheathed his claws and snarled at the open doorway, canines long and gleaming.

The house, usually full of the whispering skirts and chatter of servants, had gone silent.

Not the pregnant silence of Fire Night, but rather a trembling quiet that made me want to scramble under the table. Or just start running. Lucien swore and drew his sword.

“Get Feyre to the window - by the curtains,” Tamlin growled to Lucien, not taking his eyes off the open doors. Lucien’s hand gripped my elbow, dragging me out of my chair.

I let Lucien lead me to the window, my body immobile as it had been last night - as I felt it would now forever be. He leaned my body into the velvet drapes and then pressed his back into me, pinning me between him and the wall. The closeness - the pressure - was drowning me as seconds passed by. I tried to breathe.

The tang of magic shoved itself up my nostrils. Though his sword was pointed at the floor, Lucien’s grip tightened on it until his knuckles turned white. Magic - a glamour. To conceal me, to make me a part of Lucien - invisible, hidden by the faerie’s magic and scent.

I didn’t bother looking at Tamlin, but I heard him sheath his claws and take a deep breath. His seat groaned as he readjusted himself.

Someone was coming, someone awful enough to frighten them - someone who would want to hurt me if they knew I was here.

I had a guess.

Footsteps sounded from the hall. Even, strolling, casual.

I heard Tamlin fidgeting from his seat, and in front of me, Lucien assumed a position of appearing to be looking out the window. The footsteps grew louder - the scuff of boots on marble tiles.

And then he appeared.

It was like I could breathe again. I almost ran to him, to the arms of my mate, desperate to close any space between us, relieving the pressure that had built on the bond in his absence. I missed him - his presence. And at this point, I would go anywhere to be away from here.

With graceful, feline steps he approached the dining table and stopped a few yards from the High Lord. I wondered if he could feel my presence through the bond or if he could see through Lucien’s glamour. Rhysand was exactly as I remembered him, with his fine, rich clothing cloaked in tendrils of night: an ebony tunic brocaded with gold and silver, dark pants, and black books that went to his knees. After all this time, I’d never dared to paint him. Now I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to paint again.

“High Lord,” Rhysand crooned, inclining his head slightly. Not a bow.

Tamlin remained seated. With his back to me, I couldn’t see his face - didn’t want to - but Tamlin’s voice was laced with the promise of violence as he said, “What do you want, Rhysand?”

My mate smiled - heartbreaking in its beauty - and put a hand on his chest. “Rhysand? Come now, Tamlin. I don’t see you for forty-nine years, and you start calling me Rhysand?” So he had taken away Tamlin’s memory of Fire Night then. “Only my prisoners and my enemies call me that.” His grin widened as he finished, and something in his countenance turned feral and deadly, more so than I’d ever seen Tamlin look. Rhysand turned, and I held my breath as he ran an eye over Lucien. “A fox mask. Appropriate for you, Lucien.”

“Go to hell, Rhys,” Lucien snapped.

“Always a pleasure dealing with rabble,” Rhysand said, and faced Tamlin again. Did he not see me? Could he not feel my presence like I felt his - surrounding me, calling me to come closer? “I hope I wasn’t interrupting.”

“We were in the middle of lunch,” Tamlin said - his voice void of any warmth to which I’d been accustomed. The voice of the High Lord. It turned my insides cold.

“Stimulating,” Rhysand purred.

“What are you doing here, Rhys?” Tamlin demanded, still in his seat.

“I wanted to check up on you. I wanted to see how you were faring. If you got my little present.”

“Your  _ present  _ was unnecessary.”

“But a nice reminder of the fun days, wasn’t it?” Rhysand clicked his tongue and surveyed the room. “Almost half a century holed up in a country estate. I almost don’t know how you managed it. But,” he said, facing Tamlin again, “you’re such a stubborn bastard that this must have seemed like paradise compared to Under the Mountain. I suppose it is. I’m surprised, though: forty-nine years, and no attempts to save yourself or your lands. Even now that things are getting interesting again.”

“There’s nothing to be done,” conceded Tamlin, his voice low.

Rhysand approached Tamlin, each movement smooth as silk. His voice dropped into a whisper - and erotic caress of sound that brought heat to my cheeks. “What a pity that you must endure the brunt of it, Tamlin - and an even greater pity that you’re so resigned to your fate. You might be stubborn, but this is pathetic. How different the High Lord is from the brutal war-band leader of centuries ago.”

Lucien interrupted, “What do you know about anything? You’re just Amarantha’s whore.”

Despite myself I actually struggled against Lucien, pushing towards Rhysand. Lucien didn’t budge, but Rhysand looked right at me, holding my gaze long enough that I knew he saw me. He felt me. He was just putting on a show. I nearly collapsed, desperate to end this tension. Desperate to rid myself of the tang of the glamour on my skin. Desperate to run from this room where I shared breath with Tamlin. 

Before his eyes reconnected with Lucien’s, Rhysand pulled on the bond and I clung to it unabashedly.  “Her whore I might be, but not without my reasons.” I flinched at the idea of what reasons would lead him to selling himself in that way. “At least I haven’t bided my time among the hedges and flowers while the world has gone to Hell.”

Lucien’s sword rose slightly. “If you think that’s all I’ve been doing, you’ll soon learn otherwise.”

“Little Lucien. You certainly gave them something to talk about when you switched to Spring. Such a sad thing, to see your lovely mother in perpetual mourning over losing you.”

Lucien pointed his sword at Rhysand. “Watch your filthy mouth.”

Rhysand laughed - a lover’s laugh, low and soft and intimate. I held the bond as if my life depended on it, ready for his show to be over in the hopes of finding a way to some alone time with him. “Is than any way to speak to a High Lord of Prythian? Come now, Tamlin,” Rhysand said. “Shouldn’t you reprimand your lackey for speaking to me like that?”

“I don’t enforce rank in my court,” Tamlin said.

“Still?” Rhysand crossed his arms. “But it’s so entertaining when they grovel. I suppose your father never bothered to show you.”

“This isn’t the Night Court,” Lucien hissed. “And you have no power here - so clear out. Amarantha’s bed is growing cold.”

Rhysand snickered, but then he was upon Lucien, too fast for me to follow with human eyes, growling in his face. Lucien pressed me into the wall with his back and my lungs felt encased - trapped. My breaths was short then gone and back again. 

Rhysand opened his mouth to spout out another blow to Lucien, but stopped - his body stiff. His face fell slowly and his eyes slid into a rage I’d never seen before. I had to hold my hands to stop them from shaking. His nostrils flared, scenting me in his nearness and his lips twitched. His features warped until his fury sent a chill down my spine. He knew. He knew I’d been distressed this morning. He knew the panic and the fear and the violation I’d woken up to and now he was here - smelling Tamlin’s scent still probably intertwined with mine. 

I was going to be sick. My chest heaved but Lucien was stick-straight in front of me.

“What. Did. You. Do,” Rhysand ground out the words like gravel, his violet eyes swimming in a frenzy. He was looking at me. I felt a trail of wetness fall down one of my cheeks, and then the other.

The room was silent. Tamlin and Lucien had no idea what Rhysand was talking about.

Claws began to slide out, not from Tamlin’s hands, but from Rhysand’s, as he turned with deadly focus to Tamlin. “What did you do to her?” he spat at the High Lord.

Tamlin’s chair groaned as it was shoved back. He rose, claws at the ready, deadlier than any of the knives strapped to him.

“What are you talking about?” Lucien managed. No one moved, but the tears kept falling down my face. 

Rhysand stared down Tamlin, power emanating from him.

_ What did he do to you,  _ Rhysand pleaded to me though the bond. The bond I was still squeezing with every ounce of strength I had. The bond that was holding me together.

I didn’t want to think of what he did to me between the blackness of my memories of last night. I should have listened to Lucien. I shouldn’t have had any of that faerie wine.

_ Feyre,  _ he caressed into the bond.

Sobs racked through my body. My silence didn’t matter anymore, and I felt myself relax between the warm body in front of me and the wall. Lucien moved and I slid to the ground. I didn’t care. I reached for my knees, begging to curl into myself and let the world around me face away.

“Don’t touch her!” Tamlin snapped as I felt warm hands on my face.

Rhysand roared. “Get her out of this house. Get her out of your court or I will slaughter you and destroy your lands inch by inch.”

My chest shook my body and my head felt heavy with moisture. There was a pounding in my ears as the world was slowly shut out around me. I felt Lucien move away from me and Rhysand was shouting, over and over, barking at Tamlin. There was a blur of motion around me until finally there was silence.

“Feyre,” Rhysand whispered. 

I dared to open my swollen eyes and saw his terrifyingly beautiful face broken into pieces before me - his brows crushed together and his lips tightly shut. 

“We’re alone, Feyre,” he said, moving strings of wet hair from my face. “They’re getting you a horse and carriage to take you home. To your sisters. Your father. Is that ok?”

I nodded, but said nothing, my chest still heaving it’s overflowing chorus that rippled through me.

“Forget the plan, Feyre, please. You’ll be safe at home. I can finish the plan, I promise,” he said quickly. “Please, Feyre,” he begged.

I pulled a stiff arm from my cocoon to reach for him, managing to grab his hand before he rose to his feet. 

“They’re coming back, Feyre. They can’t know we’re mates. I will see you again, Feyre. I promise,” he said, repeating my name like a prayer. “Feyre…”

Sleep. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to forget.

Rhysand wouldn’t let Tamlin touch me. Lucien carried me into my ride, led by a fine white mare. Rhysand watched over from the doors, attempting to look indifferent - as if his wild rage hadn’t exclaimed the opposite just minutes ago.

Tamlin approached me just before I left. 

He reached for me, but I made no motion to reciprocate. 

“Feyre,” he whispered.

I finally looked at him - at his face. It shattered me - seeing his sweet eyes, brilliant as the timeless spring of his lands and then seeing his long golden hair and the stark memory of that hair hanging down on my sweat-covered face as it moved with him against me. I nearly wretched right there.

Then he said what I’d been waiting for. What I’d been trying to hear since I decided I would try to win him, to face Amarantha, to declare the words back to him and watch his mask fall and his powers return. But when the moment came, I said nothing. I felt nothing. I couldn’t save this man, this lonely delusional man.

“I love you.”

I wept until I fell into a magical slumber as I was carried back home.


	8. Chapter 8

**Azriel**

 

The shadows welcomed me as I slid through the decorative oak door mere inches behind the human girl. It was the same every night in this Cauldron-forsaken manor: She slept until midday, rose only for the last meal of the evening with her sisters, and then went back to bed only to be encompassed by her night fits. I hoped hers were a far cry from my own.

Her room was large with a massive four poster bed at its focus, surrounded by an armoire stained golden-brown like the girl’s hair. Velvet curtains of a deep blue hung from the windows covering the south facing wall. I’d slipped in and out through there a time or two, but she didn’t know that. She didn’t know I was here now as she fell into her unmade bed, covered with quilts of every size and color, still in her lavender tunic and dark pants from this evening’s dinner. I slithered across the quiet space, finding some extra shadows behind her armoire. I hid there wedged between it and the entryway to her wash room.

Her sobs had stopped coming days ago, but still she dropped into bed the same way every night. Her eyes were always empty. I never heard her speak.

Her sisters - Nesta, the grouchy one, and Elain, the perky one - noticed too. Elain had tried to entice the girl to join her on a walk through the gardens or to find a paint set in town. Both times she had come back to her room and vomited.

I wondered who this girl was every day I spent here hiding in the darkness, waiting for new orders or an unforeseen threat to appear so I could finally have something interesting to do.

Feyre.

The note from Rhysand came as a wild shock. It had appeared to Amren in her kitchen in the middle of her morning… meal, you could call it. She’d spat the thick animal blood all over her counters and called us together - Rhysand’s court - where I volunteered to answer Rhysand’s call.

The note described a place over the wall, into the mortal lands and then merely said,  _ Protect her. This ends soon. _

We’d all felt the gravity of it - Rhysand sending a letter into Velaris, our home. If he was willing to communicate with us then either this was really coming to an end or this girl was more important to Rhys than he was to himself. We’d tried to chase him Under the Mountain, to save him or even just communicate with him, but every time his magic stood in our way. Mor had cursed her cousin’s name in the wind so many times I’d lost count over the years.

Years. It had been years since we’d heard from him. Nearly fifty years without our High Lord and when he finally contacts us, it’s to babysit this girl.

I had my suspicions, as I’m sure the others did too, but none of us mentioned anything. Cassian was unusually silent when I knew there was so much he would normally have blurted out with a wry smile, but even he must have felt the weight of this command from our lord, our leader, our king. 

So here I was, and had been for the last two weeks.

I heard the steps down the hall - one pair marching, the other trailing behind - before the door flew open, light pouring in from the hall. 

“Feyre!” the oldest girl shouted, Elain peering over her shoulder. “I am  _ sick  _ of this!”

Feyre didn’t bother moving anything but her eyes which dragged over to her sister. The three of them were strikingly similar - all with the same golden brown hair and sharp features. Nesta and Feyre were nearly mirror images, but Elain had a softness to her that flowed through her brown eyes that was unlike her sisters’ blue ones.

I was ready to kick back and possibly even let my thoughts wander to the Night Court - to Amren and Cassian, to Mor… when Nesta said, “I know you weren’t off with some aunt of ours, tending to her sickbed. That beast fed us lies and I wouldn’t swallow a second of it. That faerie took you Feyre,” the girl bit out, “and I want to know what happened to you on the other side of that damn wall.”

Elain’s eyes grew wide. She hadn’t known what Nesta had. Though I didn’t know it either, it made sense. Where else would Rhysand have met her? Though if this girl had made it out from Under the Mountain Amarantha would be searching for her everywhere… Surely that wasn’t the case. Rhysand wouldn’t have sent one of us after her if he thought Amarantha knew who she was. Rhysand wouldn’t have sent one of the four of us after her unless she was… 

I wouldn’t let myself assume. If Rhysand didn’t explain it was because he didn’t want to and as far as I was concerned, he had my loyalty - no explanation necessary.

“He…” the youngest sister, my charge, choked on the words. The first words I’d ever heard come out of her mouth. I stood my ground, refusing to look away when tears fell from her eyes. But if this girl was who I thought she was… I braced myself, as if her cry would bring on a sudden attack in her weakness. “He wouldn’t stop,” she shuddered out, and the sobs began again.

Elain lept into the bed and curled herself around her little sister, pulling the girl to her chest and wrapping thin arms around her. Nesta settled on the edge of the bed.

“Shhh,” Elain whispered.

I stood frozen just feet away from them. I couldn’t let myself judge her words. I wasn’t sure if I knew who the  _ he  _ was that she spoke of. I held a breath.

“Who is  _ he _ ?” Nesta asked for me.

Feyre clenched. I watched her tighten every muscle in her body before sitting up, away from Elain, willing herself to normalcy. “Tamlin,” she said. “He’s the High Fae that took me - Lord of the Spring Court. He took me and he courted me for his own purposes and then he…” she trailed off.

I hoped she wouldn’t finish her sentence. Males with no self control made me sick and if this girl was indeed whom I guessed her to be… there would be blood. But that would be Rhysand’s call.

“Well, now you never have to see him again,” Nesta said, stating a fact.

And then Feyre surprised me, pulling a loose hair behind her ear before she said, “But that’s just it. I have to see him again. I have to go back.”

“Ah!” Elain barked.

“Like hell you are,” Nesta said. “I don’t know what that creep did to you but there is no way you are going back to him-”

“I’m not going back to him,” Feyre interrupted. “I have to go back to save my mate.”

The weight of Rhysand’s letter fell onto my shoulders. I felt as if the air in the room thickened at her words. Still, I refused to assume, but she was dangerously close to connecting the theory in my head.

“ _ Your mate?”  _ the sisters exclaimed. Nesta’s face wrinkled and Elain’s shined with excitement.

“Oh, Feyre, you have a mate?” Elain said, a wistful look filling her eyes as she reached for Feyre’s hair gathering it all in her hands. She began to weave it idly. “Tell me all about him,” she chirped.

“He’s being kept Under the Mountain by a faerie commander from overseas. He’ll be captive to her forever if I don’t go back for him.”

“And what makes you think you’ll be of any help against a warrior who conquered faeries, hmm?” Nesta argued, carefully observing her nails.

“It’s rather complicated,” Feyre said as Elain finished her sophisticated braid. “There’s a spell that needs to be broken and I’m the only one who can break it.”

The eldest sister huffed and stood from the bed, making for the door.

“Nesta, wait,” Elain said. “If this is Feyre’s mate, she has to go. She has to save him or she will live her entire life without him.” Nesta ignored her. “You know the stories too. If he dies, a part of her will die with him.”

Nesta’s hand stopped shy of the doorknob. She let out an exasperated breath. “Fine, how do you plan on getting Under the Mountain?”

Then something happened that I’d never seen coming, that none of my centuries of training had prepared me for.

Feyre turned straight toward me, her eyes a cold gray in this light. “He’s going to take me.”

 

*

 

It had been over one hundred years since I’d been captured while spying. Though I knew the consequences of this discovery would be much less gory, it would be potentially be just as torturous.

“Who?” Elain asked as Nesta stepped away from the door into my line of sight.

“Azriel,” Feyre said. I wanted to lunge at her for knowing who I was. I wanted to draw my claws at the invasion, but I knew it was only pride nudging at my fingers. If she knew who I was it was because of Rhysand.

I stepped out of the shadows and let my glamours fall. Darkness lingered in tendrils swirling through my vision, but that was unavoidable - like asking my hair to stop growing.

“Who is he?” Nesta growled, stepping toward me - leveraging herself between me and her sisters. I didn’t doubt she would attack if provoked.

“My mate sent him,” Feyre said. “He is of the Night Court. Rhysand sent him to make sure Tamlin didn’t come after me - and to watch out for Amarantha.”

“Okay, what is going on, Feyre?” Nesta snapped, her restless eyes scanning the room for weapons and exits. What a woman.

“Amarantha has Rhysand -  _ my mate _ ,” she said, rising from the bed to approach me. “Rhysand saved me from Tamlin after… after what he did to me. Rhysand is the one who sent me home, but I have to go back to save him.”

I pondered if Rhysand would really have set me up as a guide to his mate to lead her straight into Amarantha’s clutches. I doubted it. The girl was staring at me, making her way past Nesta to stand face to face with me. My shadows whipped at her skin as she came near, but she did not flinch. Her eyes were still swollen from her weeping.

“Rhysand told me you would not want to lead me to her,” she whispered to me. My eyes narrowed. “He’s not the biggest fan of my plan either, but he knows I am the only one who can save him - who can save them all from Amarantha’s curse.” 

I raised my chin in response.

“He said you would know I was his mate and that you’d want to protect me - keep me far away from Amarantha. But he also said that he trusted me the same way you trust Mor - the same way you trust her strength and cunning,” she said.

I kept my twitch at her mention of Mor at bay. This girl, this mortal girl was to be an equal to Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, the largest court in Prythian. He was the most powerful High Lord of them all - the most powerful living being I’d ever known of and this mortal girl was his mate.

I noted the way her lip trembled before I finally said, “Well, let’s go then.”

 

*

 

I expected Elain and Nesta to resist or at least prolong their goodbye, but Feyre and I were off in a carriage within in hour. I noted the lack of a reaction from Feyre at the lack of sentimentality from her sisters. I couldn’t help but think of my own family, but I stifled that train of thought immediately. The restless wings settled inside me ached for us to fly straight to the mountain but I knew that would be too dangerous. Amarantha had creatures of all kinds swarming southern Prythian. She’d always stayed away from the Night Court because she already had Rhysand.

I let a breath go. There would never be a day I didn’t wish Rhysand had let us fight her, though I knew he’d sold himself for us - for our safety. I squashed the thought before it built into rage.

My siphons glowed, the magic within me pooling through me into whips of energy to lead the horse of our wagon. Feyre had told me where to go with directions from Rhysand. I wasn’t sure how she’d communicated so closely with my High Lord and I wasn’t sure whether that built my trust or delayed it.

“You’re one of his friends,” she said softly. My eyes yanked to her starry stare. She’d been watching me the entire ride. I assumed it was to distract her from her mission ahead. She didn’t wait for me to respond. “He sent me through his memories once,” she said, finally looking away - out the carriage window. “She uses him - Amarantha. She lets anyone grab him and curse at him…” her voice trailed off.

My muscles shook beneath my skin.

“He told me he did things he wasn’t proud of, but it was all for those he loved.” She looked at me again, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “For you,” she whispered.

We didn’t speak again until we arrived to the cave in the Spring Court lands that led Under the Mountain. She crawled from her seat, her matching black tunic and pants gleaming in the sunlight of the open door, and let herself out. When I started to move to follow her, I hit a wall. My lip curled at the invisible barrier that separated myself from Rhys’ mate. She couldn’t possibly have magic - in all my years I’d never heard of a mortal possessing magic.

Feyre’s eyes pressed together, wrinkles pooling on her forehead. “I’m sorry, Azriel,” she said, exhaling with a look off into the cave. I felt venom rise in my gut. “We can’t let you endanger yourself any further. Please,” she said. I cursed under my breath. “Please, go back to the others. Tell them of Rhysand’s love - that he has not forgotten them.”

_ Rhysand _ , dammit. With all the magic he was constantly spreading over the continent you’d think he could have just pooled it together to overthrow Amarantha. But, of course, Rhys wouldn’t leave Velaris unguarded, nor would he leave his friends - or his  _ mate  _ \- stranded without aid.

I growled as I watched her turn and walk into the darkness.


	9. Chapter 9

**Feyre**

 

 

 

This darkness was different than the shadows that circled Azriel, trailing behind every move he made. The man was so large it had taken a massive force of will to keep from shaking in his presence, but the reminder that he was one of my mate’s closest friends had propelled my fears away. I made a mental note to ask Rhysand why his sense of night seemed so different than Rhysand’s, but maybe it was just that was the way all of the Night Court was. I wondered if I would ever possess my own brand of shadows, but I quelled the thought. Their night was magic - something I would never be able to feel, not beyond the bond in my chest.

That other-worldly pull led me forward into the cave. I lost my vision a few minutes in, but I could feel Rhysand watching over me through the bond. It was so freeing to feel him surge me onward, embracing my role I chose for myself - something I knew Tamlin would never have done.

I didn’t want to think about that though. I didn’t want to think about anything Tamlin did or didn’t do, not anymore. That part of my life was over now.

I crept through the blackness with a hand over my stowed knife, unwilling to take any chances despite knowing if I was captured it would be by something inconceivably stronger than me. Still, I felt encouraged by being prepared. I wore a full quiver, two daggers at my waist, and a bow strung over my shoulder. Better than nothing. I held my breath steady as I felt the first corner along the wall. When I turned there was something ahead of me. There was something glowing on the ground. Hesitantly, I approached the enchanted thing that provided the only light in this too small cavernous hall. It shone a deep, treacherous blue-green that muddled and moved within itself.

It was a stone. 

I reached for it and found myself pausing when my fingertips drew inches from the brilliant gem. Small zaps prickled against the skin of my hand. Without giving myself anymore time to ponder, I snatched up the enchanted stone feeling its delicate chain whipping at my wrist. It was as if the stone were alive, the chaos of its gloomy colors alive like a roaring sea testing the sailors with its braying storm.

I slipped the strange thing into the pocket of my pants and continued my trek through the endless cave.

After what felt like an eternity, a crack of orange light cleaved through the dark. And then came the voices.

Hissing and howling, eloquent and guttural - a cacophony bursting the silence like a firecracker. I pressed myself against the cave wall, but the sounds passed and faded.

I crept toward the light, blinking back my blindness when I found the source: a slight fissure in the rock. It opened onto a crudely carved, fire-lit subterranean passageway. I lingered in the shadows, my heart wild in my chest. The crack in the cave wall was large enough for one person to squeeze through - so jagged and rough that it was obviously not often used. A glance at the dirt revealed no tracks, no sign of anyone else using this entrance. The hallways beyond was clear, but it veered off, obscuring my view.

The passageway was deathly quiet, but I remembered Rhysand’s warning whispered through my mind days ago and didn’t trust my ears, not when faeries could be silent as cats.

Still, I had to leave this cave. I had to find Amarantha and hopefully not run into anyone I shouldn’t in the process. Killing animals, even the naga beast that had attacked me after I trapped the Suriel so long ago, had been one thing, but killing any others…

I took several breaths, bracing myself. It was the same as hunting. Only this time the animals were faeries. Faeries who could torture me endlessly - torture me until I begged for death. Torture me the way they tormented that Summer Court faerie Tamlin had once found whose wings had been ripped off.

I didn’t let myself think about those bleeding stumps as I eased toward the tiny opening, sucking in my stomach to squeeze through. My weapons scraped against the stone, and I winced at the hiss of falling pebbles.  _ Keep moving, keep moving _ . Hurrying across the open hallway, I pressed into an alcove on the opposite wall. It didn’t provide much cover.

I slunk along the wall, pausing at the bend in the hall. I reached into the bond and tugged, then followed the answering pull. I turned the corner to another hallway curved out of the mountain’s pale stone, lined on either side by torches. No shadowy spots for concealment, and at its other end my view was obscured by another sharp turn. It was wide open. I was as good as a starving doe, ripping bark off a tree in a clearing.

But the halls were silent - the voices I’d heard earlier were gone. And if I heard anyone, I could sprint back to that cave mouth… No, this wasn’t a time for fear. Rhysand was leading the way. But his magic was stretched so thin. Was he just pulling me toward him blindly or could he see - feel - my surroundings? Would he know if I were approached? The bond hadn’t reacted to the zings from the enchanted amulet I now kept in my pocket. What if he’d already been found out and was being tortured into leading me to a trap?

No, he wouldn’t let them do that. He’d rather die than see me hurt. I knew it because I felt it too. I steeled myself, clinging to the bond, and made to slip around the corner.

Long, bony fingers wrapped around my arm, and I went rigid. A warmth lit within my pocket, fiery hot - so hot I just knew it would burn through my bottoms and leave a mark on my skin. A slow sizzle hummed and burning flesh filled my nostrils as the hand yanked away.

A pointed, leathery gray face came into my view, and its silver fangs glistened as its vicious smile faded and it hissed at me. “What’s something like you doing here?”

I knew that voice. It haunted my nightmares since I’d first heard its wicked caress in the garden on a walk with Tamlin and Lucien. They’d shielded me with a glamour to protect me from it, but had also shielded its ugly face from me. At least I had one thing to thank them for.

I took a step back, holding in a scream as its bat-like ears cocked, and I realized I stood before the Attor.

“What are you?” it seethed. I tried not to glance down at my pocket where the stormy stone had dulled its fire. The creature stalked toward me and without giving it much thought, I bolted.

I could feel the Attor inches behind me as I darted down the halls, swinging around every sharp corner. I never laid eyes on another being, faerie or otherwise. Just as I thought I’d reached a dead end I saw the split hall, leaving me the option of left or right. With no sounds but my pounding breaths and the demon creature’s clawed feet screeching against the cave floor, I chose the right, but the Attor was there, easily sprinting ahead of me to block the way with its outstretched leathery wings. I was instantly turning to run to the left before I could even think of the way it was corralling me.

Then there were faces - leering faces, cruel and harsh, watching me go by. The faeries broke out into whispers, gossiping as I raced between them, the Attor at my back. For a brief second, I dared a look over my shoulder only to spot the creeping smile on the Attor’s face before I slammed into two ancient, enormous stone doors - taller than Tamlin’s entire manor - which surprisingly burst open at my effort. I felt a familiar burn singeing my hip from within my pocket. 

I fell into a vast chamber carved from pale rock, upheld by countless carved pillars. That small part of me that had become trivial and useless noted that the carvings weren’t just ornate designs, but actually depicted faeries and High Fae and animals in various environments and states of movement. Countless stories of Prythian were etched on them. Chandeliers of jewels hung between the pillars, staining the red marble floor with color. Here - here were the High Fae.

Two sets of hands grabbed at my upper arms, hauling me off the ground. Faerie sentries, I’d guess by their polished matching uniforms. The Attor stood in front of us, waiting until I was on my feet before leading us forward. Strange though, the way it couldn’t seem to touch the amulet.

An assembled crowd took up most of the space, some of them dancing to strange off-kilter music, some milling about chatting - a party of sorts. I thought I spied some glittering masks among the attendees, but everything was a blur of sharp teeth and fine clothing.

It didn’t take long for them to reunite me with the cold marble floor as the guards hurled me forward. The world spun, my bones groaning and barking. I pushed myself up, sparks dancing in my eyes, but stayed on the ground, kept low, as I beheld the dias from Rhysand’s memories. Before me, a few steps led onto the platform. I held my head higher.

There, lounging on a black throne, was Amarantha.

She seemed more lovely in front of me than she had from Rhysand’s point of view, though she wasn’t quite what I would call beautiful. Petrifying, yes, but beautiful, no. Her red-gold hair was neatly braided and woven through her golden crown, the deep color enriching her snow-white skin, which, in turn, set off her ruby lips. But while her ebony eyes shone, there was... _ something  _ that sucked at her beauty, some kind of permanent sneer to her features that made her allure seem contrived and cold. To paint her would have driven me to madness.

The highest commander of the King of Hybern, She’d slaughtered human armies centuries ago, had murdered her slaves rather than free them. She’d captured all of Prythian in a matter of days.

And she’d enslaved my mate in her bed.

My arms buckled beneath me and I tried to calm the rage that devoured the bond within me. My bones were singing for her death. Her nearness was too much. This fury could claw her ancient face off with my puny human fingers.

A perfect distraction, my eyes had slid to the black rock throne beside hers and I saw Tamlin. He was still wearing that golden mask, still wearing his warrior’s clothes, that baldric - even though there were no knives sheathed along it, not a single weapon anywhere on him. His eyes didn’t widen; his mouth didn’t tighten. No claws, no fangs. He just stared at me, unfeeling - unmoved. Unimpressed.

I had to force myself not to reciprocate the look. Mustering that rage for inspiration, I looked back at Amarantha hoping she’d see a vengeant lover staring back at her.

“What’s this?” Amarantha said, her voice lilting despite the wicked smile she gave me. From her slender, creamy neck hung a long, thin chain - and from it dangled a single, age worn bone the size of a finger. I didn’t want to consider whom it might have belonged to as I remained on the floor. If I shifted my arm, I could draw my dagger… 

“Just a human thing I found downstairs,” the Attor hissed, and a forked tongue darted out between its razor sharp teeth. It flapped its wings once, blasting foul-smelling air at me, and then neatly tucked them behind its skeletal body.

“Obviously,” Amarantha purred, but her eyes looked between the Attor and the guards who had held me. “But why should I bother with her?”

The Attor chuckled, the sound like sizzling water on a griddle, and a taloned foot jabbed my side and retreated quickly. The smell of burning flesh filled my nose again while my pocket filled with heat. What was this magic? But the Attor pressed on as if nothing happened. “Tell Her Majesty why you were sneaking around the catacombs - why you came out of the old cave that leads to the Spring Court.”

I prayed to the Cauldron that the Attor was spewing assumptions and didn’t have the power of the mind like Rhysand. If it knew my thoughts our entire plan was screwed. The Attor kicked me again, quickly as not to linger so the singe wouldn’t grow audible. “Tell Her Majesty you filth.”

This was it - the moment I’d been waiting for. My redemption and salvation. My fate, be it good or bad, lay here with Rhysand whom I could feel behind me in the room. His presence felt both subtle and outstanding within me, but I avoided clinging to the bond in Amarantha’s presence. That was not a risk I was willing to take. I eased to me feet, keeping my hands within casual reach of my daggers. I stared into the deathly black of Amarantha’s eyes.

“I came to claim the one I love.”


	10. Chapter 10

All the bitch said was, “Oh?”

I swallowed the bile in my throat before my next words came from my lips. “I’ve come to claim Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court.”

A gasp rippled through the assembled court. Amarantha tipped her head back and laughed like a dirty old crow.

The High Queen turned to Tamlin, and her lips pulled back in a wicked smile. It was difficult not to look at the two of them and sneer. The bond pulled in me, and feeling Rhysand brought my face back onto the plan - sending my features into crumpled place, ready to snarl for my mate.

“Let him go,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Amarantha laughed again. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t destroy you where you stand, human.” Her teeth were so straight and white - almost glowing.

My blood pounded in my veins, but I kept my chin high as I said, “You tricked him - he is bound unfairly.” The words Rhysand and I decided on - that I’d rehearsed in my head a hundred times in the carriage with Azriel. Tamlin had gone very, very still.

Amarantha clicked her tongue and looked at one of her slender white hands - at the ring on her index finger. A ring, I noticed as she lowered her hand again, set with what looked like… like a human eye encased in crystal. I could have sworn it swiveled inside. “You human beasts are so uncreative. We spent years teaching you poetry and fine speech, and  _ that  _ is all you can come up with? I should rip out your tongue for letting it go to waste.”

I clamped my teeth together. I knew we should have gone with Rhysand’s more colorful ideas.

“But I’m curious: What eloquence will pour from your lips while my Attor peels you apart to show you your bones?”

My insides twisted; it was a concentrated effort not to empty my stomach onto the stones.

The Attor took a step toward me, but halted at my shoulder grunting toward the guard on my opposite side. The sentry got the message and reached for my arms, pulling them behind my back to leave me exposed while the Attor stepped in front of me. I squirmed, unready to give in to the idea that I might have only walked into a trap where I’d spend the rest of my living days tortured by this wretched creature. I felt a hum in my bones and a burning at my hip before I ripped my arms free from the faerie guard’s grasp. My hands flew to my daggers as I stepped back from the henchmen only to knock into another body of muscle.

Muscle I’d felt at my back before.  _ Rhysand _ , my breath whispered as it whooshed from my body.

_ Mine,  _ he said back and I steadied against him before stepping away, keeping a distance between us.

Amarantha hummed at the scene. I wasn’t sure what she thought of me slipping away from the guard or Rhysand’s approach, but she made no mention of it. Instead she leaned back in her throne and crossed her legs. “Well, Tamlin,” she said, putting a proprietary hand on his arm, “I don’t suppose you ever expected this to occur.” She waved a hand in my general direction. A murmur of laughter from those assembled echoed around me, hitting me like stones. “What do you have to say, High Lord?”

I looked at the face I’d only been able to bring my eyes to once since our last encounter the day Rhysand had stripped me from his possession. I could have laughed when he said, “I’ve never seen her before. Someone must have glamoured her as a joke. Probably Rhysand.” He must be an idiot if he thought denying me would do me any good at this point. I was already in her clutches, his words only decided how fast I would die.

“Oh that’s not even a halfway decent lie.” Amarantha angled her head. “Could it be - could it be that  _ you,  _ despite your words so many years ago, return the human’s feelings? A girl with hate in her heart for out kind has managed to fall in love with a faerie. Amd a faerie whose father once slaughtered the human masses by my side has actually fallen in love with her, too?” She let out that crow’s laugh again. “Oh, this is too good - this is too fun.” She fingered the bone hanging from her necklace and looked at the encased eye upon her hand. “I suppose if anyone can appreciate the moment,” she said to the ring, “it would be you, Jurian.” She smiled prettily. “A pity your human whore on the side never bothered to save you, though.”

Jurian - that was  _ his  _ eye, his finger bone. Horror coiled in my gut. Through whatever evil, whatever power, she somehow held his soul, his consciousness, to that ring, the bone.

Tamlin still looked at me without recognition, without a flicker of feeling. I could have spat in his face.

“Things have been awfully boring here since my last guest had to go and die on me. Killing you outright, human, would be dull.” She flicked her gaze to me, then back to her nails - to the ring on her finger. “But Fate stirs the Cauldron in strange ways. I’ve grown quite bored with the High Lord and his sullen silence… I’ll make a bargain with you, human,” she said, and I dared hope for something that might be doable. “You complete three tasks of my choosing - three tasks to prove how deep that human sense of loyalty and love runs, and Tamlin is yours. Just three little challenges to prove to me, to darling Jurian, that your kind can indeed love true, and you can have your High Lord.” She turned to Tamlin. “Consider it a favor, High Lord - these human dogs can make our kind so lust-blind that we lose all common sense. Better for you to see her true nature now.”

“I want his curse broken, too,” I blurted. I needed Tamlin to regain his full power so he could shred her and free the rest of the fae too - to free Rhysand. “I complete all three of your tasks, and his curse is broken immediately and we are allowed to leave here together to be free forever,” I added, hoping to avoid any of her possible loopholes.

“Of course,” Amarantha purred. “I’ll throw in another element, if you don’t mind - just to see if you’re worthy of one of our kind, if you’re smart enough to deserve him.” Jurian’s eye swiveled wildly, and she clicked her tongue at it. The eye stopped moving. “I’ll give you a way out, girl,” she went on. “You’ll complete all the tasks -  _ or,  _ when you can’t stand it anymore, all you have to do is answer one question.” I could hardly hear her over the blood pounding in my ears. “A riddle. You solve the riddle and his curse will be broken.  _ Instantaneously.  _ I won’t even need to lift my finger and he’ll be free. Say the right answer and he’s yours. You can answer it at any time - but if you answer incorrectly…” On cue, the Attor stepped closer to me, its rotten breath in my face.

I turned her words over looking for loopholes but it all sounded right. “What if I fail your tasks?”

Her smile was grotesque. “If you fail a task there won’t be anything left of you to play with.”

A chill slithered down my spine and I felt the faintest warmth flow from Rhysand’s presence behind me through the bond and into my blood. “What is the nature of my tasks?”

“Oh, revealing that would take all the fun out of it But I’ll tell you that you’ll have a new one task every month - at the full moon.”

“And in the meantime?” 

“In the meantime,” Amarantha said a bit sharply, “you shall either remain in your cell or do whatever additional work I require.”

“If you run me ragged, won’t that put me at a disadvantage?” I knew she was losing interest - that she hadn’t expected me to question her so much. But I had to try to gain some kind of edge.

“Nothing beyond basic housework. It’s only fair for you to earn your keep.” I could have strangled her at that, but I nodded. “Then we are agreed.”

Then, his face ghastly white, Tamlin’s eyes met mine, and they almost imperceptibly widened.  _ No. _

I shuddered. I’d rather him look at me with that cold indifference.

“Agreed.”

Amarantha gave a small, horrible smile, and magic sizzled in the air between us as she snapped her fingers. She nestled back in her throne. “Give her a greeting worthy of my hall,” she said to someone behind me.

I realized then that I was surrounded by the Attor, two of her guards, and Rhysand. The bond went taut within me and suddenly I was floating, but my feet were still firmly on the ground. The air vanished around me and my clothes were weightless. For a moment I wondered if she’d crossed me, and this was death. But no, I hadn’t moved a muscle.

I was just numb.

The Attor’s hiss was my only warning before my jaw sent me flying to the side. I’d been punched, but I felt nothing. I was thrown sideways and then I watched the second blow to my face as it landed. I heard, rather than felt, the crunch of my bones. My legs twisted beneath me as the soldiers took turns punching me again. I ricocheted away but met with another fist of a faerie whose face I didn’t glimpse. Rhysand and the Attor stood back and watched. My mate’s face was twitching and I grabbed at the bond, willing him to stay strong, letting him know his magic was working - I felt no pain.

_ Crunch. Crack.  _

Then there were three more and I was their punching bag - passed off from blow to blow. I couldn’t tell if I was screaming.

Blood sprang from my mouth and I caught sight of Rhysand slowly shutting his eyes before he tugged through the bond and sent me into blackness.

 

*

 

When I awoke, for a moment, I felt the numbness again and almost wept with relief. But it was short lived. Slowly, my muscles returned to me and they were all screaming at me for reprieve. The pain blurred into a massive experience of stings and stabs, my throbbing face the focal point. 

My cell was what I’d expected: bars sealing me in tight quarters with only a wash basin of water and a bucket for my waste. At least there was a thin mat on the floor, where I was currently crumpled. I waited for the sobs to come again as they had for weeks now. I cursed Tamlin, my thoughts sinking into dark places at what fate I hoped for him. I flinched at my own evil desires, but I doubted there would ever be forgiveness in my heart for what he’d done to me - what he’d taken from me. He was my friend… He was my friend and knew I’d had too much faerie wine - offered me more even - when my mortal body couldn’t handle it like he and Lucien could. My body had failed me and Tamlin had taken me for himself.

The tears never came.

I rolled a little on my mat, a raspy groan escaping my dry cracked lips at the aching in my bones. All my weapons were gone, but something hard dug into my hip and I shifted off of it, heat pulsing against my skin. I barely remember the necklace I’d found in the cave leading to the mountain. It beckoned me with its soft, sweet beating pulse and I reached a sore arm down to pull it from my pocket. The troubled jewel was warm in my grip, pulsing still. It’s colors were so intricate and always on the move, like there were dark oceans and black crackling clouds trapped inside. I imagined a canvas covered in its colors.

I wondered if the Attor couldn’t touch me because of this, or if perhaps it was repelled by me alone. The shock and rage on its face when it’d first recoiled from me in the alcove was proof enough that it had never experienced such a reaction. The jewel, then. I attempted a deep breath, and I was sure at least one rib was broken, before slipping the amulet of storms around my neck.

The pulsing stopped. In its place a deep heat like iron over flame crept into me from where it lay between my breasts. It webbed through my chest and then my limbs until there was a sharp layer of heat over every inch of my body. Gradually, my pain diminished as if it had been scared away. My breathing deepened and, after minutes went by, I could stretch my legs. Even the pounding of my head eased.

I drifted off into a soft sleep only to be awoken by the screech of my cell door on the stone floor. I didn’t bother cowering. I, perhaps foolishly, trusted Amarantha’s word on her deal. I wouldn’t be killed unless it was in a trial.  _ The trials,  _ I scoffed to myself. I wouldn’t waste time guessing what wicked games the queen Under the Mountain had in store for me. Someone slipped into my cell and swiftly shut the door - leaving it just a bit ajar.

“Feyre?”

I stood on weak legs, heat still burning strength into their wounds. “Lucien?” I breathed. Hay on the stone floor crunched as he stepped toward me.

“By the Cauldron, are you alright?”

Actually, I was slowly starting to feel alot better. What kind of magic had I stumbled upon when I found this necklace? I nodded to him in the dark, my nose feeling heavy at the movement.

A small light flared by his head, and his eyes swam into view, the metal one narrowed. He hissed. “Have you lost your mind? What are you doing here? At least after Rhysand barrelled through he’d sent you home to safety. Why would you come back?”

“Someone has to fight for your freedom, Lucien. Tamlin certainly isn’t going to do that, now is he?” I spat.

His mouth hung open.

“I’m going to free you,” I continued. “You and everyone Under this Mountain. I came back to assassinate Amarantha.”

Lucien choked. “Who are you, Feyre? Where is the girl who spent all her time painting in a garden? Who…” he trailed off. “You don’t really love Tamlin, do you?”

The jewel’s heat was almost done with my healing and I felt my nose stretching into the wrong place. “Set my nose, will you Lucien?”

He balked at me. But then, too swift to follow, his fingers latched onto my nose. Pain lanced through me, and a  _ crack  _ burst through my ears, my head, before the jewel branded my chest with fire sending it straight up to the source, dulling the pain.

“Thanks,” I said, settling down to sit on my mat again.

Lucien knelt before me, moving too slow with his eyes wide. “You knew about this - about all of this - all along? Before Rhysand came you- you told us to call the blight by  _ her name…  _ Did you kill Tamlin’s sentry wolf on purpose? To… to gain access to Tamlin?”

“No,” I said, feeling the strangeness of power in this conversation. This is what my freedom tasted like. Power. Courage. Audacity. I flared my nostrils filling my healed lungs with breath. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m here now and I’d like for you to join me during my escape.”

“Of course,” he blinked. “If the curse were broken, we could all go back to the Spring Court together-”

“I’m not going back to the Spring Court, Lucien.”

“What?” he snapped too loudly. We both paused for a few breaths, listening for guards, before he went on. “Feyre, what is going on? Tamlin  _ loves  _ you.”

I clenched my teeth. “He thinks he loves me. But the things he’s done to me, Lucien… Those things are not love.”

He watched me for a moment, considering. “I will not betray you, but I will not betray Tamlin either. As long as we both may leave freely when you finish whatever you have planned, then I will do whatever I can to aid you.”

I nodded my thanks.

“Tamlin-” He started, but then shot to his feet at a sound my human ears couldn’t hear. “The guards are about to change rotations and are headed this way. Try not to die, will you? I already have a long list of faeries to kill - I don’t need to add more to it.”

Lucien vanished - winnowed as Rhysand had once called it. I smiled in his wake, hoping Lucien might come to be a true friend for a long while. A moment later, a yellowish eye tinged with red appeared at the peephole in the door, glared at me, and continued onward.


	11. Chapter 11

I slept for an endless amount of time - maybe hours, maybe days. They fed me three times a day with stale bread and water but the meals never felt like breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Instead the food was delivered randomly, as if someone would remember I existed and they had to make sure I didn’t starve on their watch.

The boredom crept into my bones as my thoughts dared to wonder in the silence. Thoughts of Elain and Nesta living happy lives without me. Thoughts of Lucien accepting my alliance and his ignorance towards Tamlin. Tamlin… I still couldn’t bring myself to think of what happened that night. I’d put myself in a vulnerable position and he… 

I changed my train of thought. Rhysand seemed to be staying away. Unless it had truly only been hours since I’d been thrown in here and he was still planning to stop by. After meeting Amarantha, I’d rather he didn’t. Not only had Elain’s stories included the way fae mates would intertwine their scents as they discovered the bond and grew it, but the rage at seeing her in the flesh, after what she’d done to him… It was too much.

He had friends - more like family - back home who would love to participate in that slaughter.

I thought of them, of the brief descriptions Rhysand had fed me as we regrouped our plan through short messages in the bond over the course of several days while I was back over the wall. Azriel was the quiet one, the one who would see to my safety until I could return to Rhysand - until I would win him back. Mor intimidated me already. She seemed to be all that I would never be, meanwhile Amren was literally a creature from another world. And then Cassian seemed the least threatening, though if you consider him being one of the three strongest Illyrian warriors non-threatening.

It had been a little unnerving to hear of the friends of my mate when I was still just learning about him. I could feel the joy in his thoughts, but I couldn’t help but worry. If my own family couldn’t find a place for me, why would his?

But after this, even those fears would be a sweet reprieve from weight that Under the Mountain fell on my chest. Having to face Tamlin every day, to fight for his honor… It was a sham, but there was no way to declare my heart for Rhysand and be able to free him. Amarantha would revel in our bond. She would destroy us piece by tiny piece in ways I was too afraid to imagine.

I had to get him out of here. Back to Mor and Azriel, to Amren and Cassian. To his home and his people.

The sound of footsteps interrupted my thoughts. Two plump red faeries opened my cell with a forceful pull before stepping inside and grabbing for me. I started to resist, but decided against the trouble it could cause. I needed to lie low. For Rhysand.

The amulet of storms grew warm against my chest beneath my clothes as they dragged me out into the throne room once more. I observed the halls on the way there, attempting to memorize them and once in the great room I checked for all the exits. I was yanked through the crowd of faeries and I tried looking for Rhysand or Lucien before I was thrown face first on the dias.

The Faerie Queen clicked her tongue. “You look positively dreadful.” Lie. I knew it was a lie from the way her eyes tore into mine, daring me to explain my healing. But she didn’t ask, and didn’t call anyone out from the crowd to blame. Instead she turned her head to the expressionless Tamlin at her side. “Don’t you think so Tamlin, dear?”

He didn’t reply. Didn’t look at me.

“You know,” Amarantha mused, leaning against an arm of her throne, “I couldn’t sleep last night, and I realized why this morning.” I nearly lunged for her at the idea of what she might have been doing while not sleeping last night. “I don’t know your name. If you and I are going to be such close friends for the next three months, I should know your name shouldn’t I?”

I held myself back from spitting at her - and at Tamlin. But I reminded myself why I was here.

When I didn’t reply, Amarantha frowned. “Come, now, pet. You know my name - isn’t it fair I know yours?” There was movement to my right, and I tensed as the Attor appeared through the parted crowd, grinning at me with row after row of teeth.

Still, I did not respond.

“Rhysand,” Amarantha said - not needing to raise her voice to summon him. My heart pounded as I heard his casual, strolling steps sound from behind me. They stopped when he came beside me, too close for me to hold myself together.

I couldn’t even think of what she would do to him or have him do. I just made a show of shrinking away from Rhysand’s presence before spitting out, “Feyre. My name is Feyre.” I could feel the bond warm and weaving us together. I needed to get him away from me before she saw too much.

“Well, well,” Amarantha purred. “Afraid of this High Lord or all of them I wonder?” She tapped her fingers on her chin, making sure the eye could see everything. “I’ll have to remember that won’t I, Feyre?” Her smiled peeled into my skin, but she waved an idle hand at Rhysand and he wordlessly backed away from me, I assumed to blend back in with the crowd.

It was a threat, of course, but I couldn’t tell if it were one of knowing or obliviousness.

“Well, Feyre, are you ready for your first task?”

  
  
  


_______

  
  
  


My arm was broken, that much I knew. And Amarantha would be dead soon, I knew that too. Even if I had to shred her to pieces myself, she was going to die. I gulped burning air as I watched the worm until I was sure it wasn’t going to move ever again after it impaled itself in my trap of bones within its den. 

I didn’t entirely hear the gasps, then the cheering - didn’t quite think or feel anything as I edged around the worm and slowly climbed out of the pit, still holding my makeshift bone sword in my hand.

She’d meant for me to die in this task. That massive beast of a worm was supposed to shred me apart with its endless rows of teeth.

Silently, I made my way back through the labyrinth she’d dropped me in, my left arm throbbing, but my entire body tingled with fierce energy that pulsed through the burning amulet around my neck and beat into my bones.

The moment I saw Amarantha perched on her throne at the edge of the trench, I clenched my free hand embracing the pain of shattered bone as nimble fire webbed its way through my body. 

I looked up at her from beneath lowered brows and didn’t check myself as a feral part of me seeped through, baring my teeth at her. Her lips drew to a thin line. I tightened my grip on the long, thin bone in my hand. I was shaking - shaking all over. But not with fear. Oh, no. It wasn’t fear.

“Well,” Amarantha said with a little smirk. “Anyone could have done that.”

I felt it then - the dark magic pierce my skin through the amulet. For a fraction of a second it startled me, but it was so powerful, refreshing, inviting. I seized the magic - embraced it - and let it fuel me. With a swift motion, I flung the bone sword straight for the dias - straight for Amarantha’s head.

It flew faster than it should have and I immediately regretted giving myself over to whatever force was wrapped around my neck. Surely if I could recognize its power, all these fae could smell it from my bed in the dungeons.

To my surprise, she didn’t make to block it - or reveal an ounce of her power to me. Instead she tipped an ear to her shoulder as bone imbedded where her face once was. 

The faeries gasped again, but their queen only removed the sword like a toothpick and tossed it back down the trench beside me. “Naughty.”

Had there not been an insurmountable trench between us, I would have ripped her throat out. Someday I would skin her alive.

“I suppose you’ll be happy to learn most of my court lost a good deal of money tonight,” she said, picking up a piece of parchment. “Let’s see. Yes, I’d say almost my entire court bet on you dying within the first minute; some said you’d last five, and” - she turned over the paper - “and just one person said you would win.”

I hid my cringe. Hopefully it wasn’t Rhysand who was foolish enough to expose us by betting on me. But my fears were only confirmed after she waved a hand of dismissal toward me and guards were down upon me, pulling me up to take me back to my cell when she called out, “Rhysand, come here.”

I cursed him despite the tiny smile I let slide on my face once I was into the halls on my walk back to the dungeons.


	12. Chapter 12

My arm was beginning to heal back in my cell. I felt the power flow from the stone against my chest through my body and into the gaping wound - something I would have eagerly welcomed had the majority of my bone not been sticking straight out, pierced through my skin. 

I was leaned against the cave wall, sitting with crossed legs on my sleeping mat. My fingers shook as I traced the white marrow hitting open air. I steeled myself, sucked in the deepest breath of my life, and thrust all my strength into my arm. I felt the scream tear through my lips, but I couldn’t feel my lips to stop it. Fresh blood flowed in thin rivers down the length of my arm. Waves roared in my ears and my room started to sway. My hands felt far away when I saw them convulsing in my lap. A fluttering fog filled my ears and then my eyes before the world went black.

 

_____

  
  


I had no way of knowing how long I’d been unconscious. The same cold floor greeted me when I slid my eyes open. They instantly begged me for more sleep, but wisps of movement fell into my peripherals and I shot to my feet, willing away the stars in my vision. Shadows built in the corner of my cell in a way that at first seemed appropriate for the conditions, but slowly they built until they rose to a height beyond my own. The darkness thickened until it found its form - until  Rhysand appeared before me.

I lunged for him. The bond lit glorious flame within my chest and the twine that bound us together felt wrapped around me endlessly as I flung my arms out to touch him for the first time since Fire Night all those months ago. I was tired of holding myself back and holding myself in. I had no idea what Rhysand and I were, but I was tired of trying to figure it out. Tired of the planning and the waiting and the biding my time, playing a game like I had with Tamlin.

I would never let myself play a game with my own heart ever again.

Instead, I would chase after my own desires. With Rhysand, and everything else in the rest of my potentially soon-to-be-over life I would just pursue what felt right - damn the consequences. No more schemes. No more plans. No more apologizing. No more excuses.

No more excuses for the people who had taken advantage of me.

His scent of snow and spice hit me like a wall. Before I could hesitate, I wrapped my arms around him and breathed him in deep.

He didn’t hesitate to hold me back.

“If you keep this up I won’t be able to leave this cell,” he whispered.

I stepped back, letting my hands slide down his chest before falling by my sides. “Fine by me.”

He chuckled, muffling a deeper laugh. His hands were still touching me, though I hardly noticed with the bond in flames between us. That is, until he brushed my entirely healed arm and froze. “She’s going to notice this is healed and it’s a bit more obvious than your nose…” he trailed off.

No need to finish that thought - I already knew she would find a way to blame Lucien, maybe even Tamlin for my recovery. I hadn’t yet thought of a ruse out of that scenario yet, though I’d wanted to hope she would just blame Tamlin even though I knew it would only come back as a punishment for me.

“How about you make a faerie’s bargain with me?” he offered, a teasing silk in his liquid voice.

“Oh?” I said.

“ _ I _ will heal your arm in exchange for your time.”

I smiled at his vague terms. “How much time?”

“Oh not much,” he mused. “Just the rest of your life.”

I laughed out loud before catching myself from causing a raucous the guards might feel the need to check on. Idly I wondered if they might be sleeping. What time was it outside? How could anyone keep track beneath this mountain?

He waited patiently for an answer.

“I’m not sure I’m prepared to sign my life away to you just yet, Rhysand.”

His eyes fell shut. “I love the way you say my name,” he purred with a sultry smile.

I was sure I was blushing. “Make a more reasonable offer.”

Tentatively, he reached up for my shoulders and wrapped an arm around me, and I let him pull me closer. “Well,” he drawled. “How about I heal your arm and you spend one week with me every month?”

“Forever?”

“Maybe.”

I let a wicked smile cross my lips. “I’m not sure that’s quite long enough.”

Rhysand beamed - truly beamed and he was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. His smile lit the room aglow and his quiet laugh filled me with a brazen confidence I’d never felt before. With Rhysand, I could do anything.

“In that case,” he said, “I’ll add that you spend holidays with me as well - including both our birthdays. And maybe I’ll add a clause about more of these lunging hugs.”

“Oh please, the Lord of the Night need not stoop so low as a contract for affection,” I joked.

Something dark flew through his eyes, but it was gone before I could think to ask him about it. Nevertheless, he would share with me what he wanted when he wanted. Perhaps I would survive this and I’d get to hear of stories like those.

He reached for my healed arm. “Do you accept our bargain, Feyre?”

“I do, Rhysand.”

A soft smile lifted his lips and tendrils of night left his fingertips and wove around my wrist leaving endless ink in its wake.

I inspected the swirling tattoo that climaxed with a detailed eye directly in the center of my palm. I looked back to my mate. “Where’s yours?”

He grinned for me again. “Do you want me to have a matching one?”

I thought about that for a moment before answering. “Yes.”

His eyes never left mine as shadows spun over his skin as they had mine. His tattoo was sharp, brutal - wicked. I could only see from beneath his sleeve, but there on his palm was a matching eye.

_ I need to go,  _ he spoke through the bond.  _ The guards are coming back, but this bargain should help out our bond - ease some of the strain. _

I tried not to think of the lack of strain I felt, but I knew he would know of the feeling anyway. I made a mental note to learn to shield my mind from him for privacy purposes.

_ Maybe it’s a faerie thing,  _ he responded.  _ Your second challenge is coming up, but you still have a few days. I’ve got something in mind to take your mind off things and maybe have some fun… _

I nearly laughed out loud. Fun? In this place? Where I was constantly battling for my life?

Rhysand just smiled at me before fading into shadow.

I fell asleep staring into the eye of my palm.

 

_________

  
  


_ The blackness was familiar around me. The smell of wet earth fell upon my nostrils from above me and I felt myself lean back against rock. My feet moved beneath me and I was running through the dark, my hand sliding across the jagged walls. Tunnels. I was in a tunnel. _

_ Not just any tunnel. The tunnel that led me Under the Mountain.  _

_ The tunnel that led me to Amarantha. _

_ Steps pounded into a musical echo bouncing off the walls into the eternal distance ahead. My breath was shallow, moisture filled my heavy lungs. _

_ Suddenly my hand holding me to the wall was exposed. I’d reached a corner - a turn - and when I looked ahead I saw a figure in the darkness as clearly as I would beneath the bright sun of the Spring Court. _

_ A small, delicate woman stood in the black beyond with one arm raised high near her shoulder. She appeared to be high fae, but her silver eyes were alive  - literally alive, swirling with smoke like leashed lightning- sending a deep, raging pulse into my veins begging me to run the other direction. Her slick straight black hair was cut at her chin and her clothes blurred into the night that surrounded her.  _

_ She was looking right at me. _

_ “Be careful with it, Feyre.” _

_ It was then that I saw the amulet in her hand - the same amulet I now wore around my neck. _

_ “Use it wisely.” _

_ I tried to step back, but my legs wouldn’t listen. When had I stopped running? When had she gotten so close? _

_ “My High Lord knows of the jewel, but he feels its power enough to know not to speak of it. You’d be wise to do the same.” _

_ When had I ever tried to tell anyone of it? Did I deserve such a warning? _

_ “This amulet is cursed. It’s been in my possession for longer than Rhysand has been alive. My grandmother had given it to me after she’d stolen it from her father before she killed him.” _

_ Cold was growing around me, eating at my fingertips. _

_ “She’d wanted to use it - to feel its power thrum within her - but it only works for the chosen.” _

_ Numb, I was growing numb. _

_ “It awoke and called to me many, many years ago, leading me with its pulse to find Rhysand. At first, I’d thought he was the chosen one, but then the Amulet of Storms quieted for many more decades. But I am a patient being. It started to emanate those waves of power for me again a few years ago, weak at first, but slowly growing stronger over the past few months - months in which I was separated from the High Lord. Then he sent word to us - to me. He sent for Azriel to come to you, to guard you before you infiltrated his captor’s mountain. Before you did what all of us in the Inner Circle wished we could do. And then the stone begged for me, yearning for you, I learned. I found a way to get it to you, but what it does from here is a mystery.” _

_ Shadows were blurring in my vision, her soft face melting into the black. When had I last taken a breath? The cavern dissipated around me. Endless black swallowed us. _

_ “This magic is much older than Amarantha. I do not know what power it will unleash, but it has chosen you, mate of my Lord. So, to you, this is my gift.” _

_ Dream… This was a dream…  _

_ “Use it wisely.” _


	13. Chapter 13

In the light the ink was actually blue - such a dark blue it appeared black. I swore when I moved I could see flecks of tiny stars within the magic pigment. I couldn’t help but meet the gaze of the eye in my palm any chance I got. But for now that eye was blind as I scrubbed the floors of the hallway. I dunked the large brush into the bucket the red-skinned guards had thrown into my arms. I could barely comprehend through their mouths full of long yellow teeth, but when they gave me the brush and bucket and shoved me into a long hallway of white marble, I understood.

“If it’s not washed and shining by super,” one of them had said, its teeth clicking as it grinned, “we’re to tie you to the spit and give you a few good turns over the fire.”

With that, they left. I had no idea when supper was, and so I frantically began washing, though I couldn’t help contemplating throwing the brush in their faces and letting them do their worst. 

Maybe this was what Rhysand meant by the bargain strengthening our bond. I felt strange… powerful. 

But I scrubbed anyway, my back already aching like fire despite less than thirty minutes having gone by. The water they’d given me was filthy, and the more I scrubbed the floor, the dirtier it became. When I went to the door to ask for a bucket of clean water, I found it locked. There would be no asking for help.

It was an impossible task - a task to torment me.

I twitched at the thought. I was trash to them. They were only toying with me, taking pleasure from my suffering. Laughing at my pain. I brought the brush back to the floor, but couldn’t bring myself to scrub. I couldn’t help the thought of my sisters. I thought of them waiting for me to come home with food, with money. I thought of them waiting for me to finish my work so they could reap the benefits.

I threw the brush across the room where I’d last moved the bucket. It slammed into the rim, sloshing water before it tipped, spilling its brown contents across the pale marble.

I thought of that wolf in the woods - Tamlin’s soldier and once friend - waiting for me to kill him. Setting me up for this fate. I watched as muddy water spread across the floor like the wolf’s blood in the snow.

I gripped myself with a foreign, self righteous rage just as the familiar warmth grew against my chest, rising up the chain around my neck.

Before I could remember the bizarre dream, or the Amulet of Storms, I followed an unseen impulse and placed my eyeless hand in the water on the floor.

The dirty water burned with soft, sweet steam. It boiled into burning tar at my fingertips, spreading like wildfire around the room. I yanked my hand away and rose to my feet, taking a few steps back through the muk. The steam became smoke and heat filled the room, the thick sweetness choking me.

Then smoke became fire.

Black fire.

It engulfed the room and I flung a hand to my mouth, swallowing my scream. I was surrounded by black flames that lit the room, as tall as the regal ceilings. The heat pressed against my skin, but I did not burn. My knees quaked beneath me as I stepped farther and farther away from where I’d started this, until I felt my back against the wall and I dropped to the floor.

As soon as I hit the ground the flames went out.

The bucket and brush were gone, not a drop of wood or bristle left behind - not even ashes.

And the floor was spotless, shining a brighter white than I was sure it had ever been.

  
  


_______

  
  


The guards had said nothing about my completion of their impossible task, nor about the lingering sweet smell. If they were aware that I’d somehow managed to set the room on fire, they didn’t tell me about it.

Not  _ somehow _ , I thought. I knew exactly how it happened - or at least what caused it.

_ Use it wisely,  _ echoed through my mind. I wasn’t sure house cleaning was its best talent, but oh well. I’d assumed the figure from my dreams was Amren. She was apart of the Inner Circle, so she was either Rhysand’s cousin, Mor, or the creature than inhabited the body of Amren. I hoped that was Amren, because if those eyes belonged to the bubbly Mor, I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to come face to face with the real Amren.

It was almost funny when I thought about it. This gem held a curse within it for hundred, possibly thousands of years waiting for someone chosen to wield it. Waiting for someone as cursed as the amulet itself. I could have laughed out loud. Of course I would be the one for the curse to call out to. It sought me out because we were one and the same - cursed. 

At least I would only have to live one short, mortal life with this demon around my neck.  

I’d considered taking off the cursed stone, but the idea of leaving myself powerless while being trapped beneath the earth with hundreds of immortal faeries who could all kill me in less time it took me to crawl out of bed in the morning wasn’t exactly comforting.

So the next day, when the guards led me to my next task, I still had on the Amulet of Storms beneath my meager tunic. They smiled at me as they shoved me into a massive, dark bedroom, lit only by a few candles, and pointed to the looming fireplace. “Servant spilled lentils in the ash,” one of the guards grunted, tossing me a new wooden bucket. I wondered if they’d noticed I hadn’t returned the first one. “Clean it up before the occupant returns, or he’ll peel off your skin in strips.”

A slammed door, the click of a lock, and I was alone.

Sorting lentils from ash and embers - ridiculous, wasteful, and - 

I approached the darkened fireplace and cringed.

Impossible.

I cast a glance at the bedroom. No windows, no exits save the one I’d just been chucked through. The bed was enormous and neatly made, its black sheets of - of silk. There was nothing else in the room beyond basic furniture; not even discarded clothes or books or weapons. As if its occupant never slept here. 

A dark thought struck me and I wished for fae senses. I wished I could scent the room. I wished I could make sure there wasn’t a trace of that snow and winter spice smell anywhere in this empty room. Recklessly, I crawled onto the bed, plopping my face into the first pillow and pulled in the biggest whiff I could to catch any lingering smell.

No.

No.

_ No. _

I withdrew from the silken sheets and knelt before the fireplace trying to calm my breathing.

_ Amarantha’s whore,  _ Lucien had once said.

He’d shown me his memories once, memories of when Tamlin had the curse placed upon him. He’d walked through that crowd of faeries nearly fifty years ago and even then they all whispered vulgar names to him, reached to grope him, to  _ touch him _ without his permission… 

And he’d been trapped here for forty nine years since then.

My hands were shaking fists, soot already staining where I’d dropped them to the ground.

I wished I could summon the black fire again. I wished I could summon enough black fire to burn this entire mountain to the ground. I would burn Amarantha. I would burn her, I vowed. I would watch her immortal flesh melt by my hands.

I lashed out, slamming my fist into the hearth sending ashes flying.

As if on cue, black steam shot from my hands, pooling around the mess I’d made.. It grew denser and denser, sliding beneath each spec of char until it formed a black liner of metallic tar, rounding out into a perfect circle.

It was a black plate of ash.

Then flecks of ash started to drop into the abyss of my magic saucer. It sucked in every last dot and drop of lentil and ash until the black fireplace was as shiny and sweet as the white marble floor from yesterday before it disappeared, leaving only a lingering sweet scent.

“Not quite the task, but I think I’ll accept.”

I lept to my feet and spun on the intruder. How had I not heard the door opening? But when I saw him, I knew my answer.

He hadn’t used the door. He’d winnowed in.

“Rhysand,” I gasped.

His darkness entered the room behind him, guttering the candles with a snow-kissed breeze. He was sprawled on the bed, a feline smile on his face.

He waited for me to move, but I didn’t. I couldn’t look at him, not in that unused bed. The rage that came with it…

_ I’d understand if you didn’t want to pursue… these kinds of things with me, Feyre. I wouldn’t blame you. _

“Shit, Rhys, no,” I mumbled, instantly removing the distance between us. I sat next to him, making sure I could feel his leg touching my own.

He sat up in a fluid movement and braced his forearms on his thighs. Such grace contained in such a powerful form.  _ I was slaughtering on the battlefield before you were even born,  _ he’d once said to Lucien. I didn’t doubt it.

“Rhysand,” I said, and reached out my tattooed hand to grab his own feeling my pulse pounding through the bond. I gave it a soft pull and traced the eye in his palm with inky fingers. “I am going to kill her. I’m not leaving this mountain until I have killed her.”

His violet eyes met mine. I waited for him to tell me no, maybe he wanted to be the one to do it - he deserved to be. But he just nodded once.  _ There would be no greater honor than to have my mate exact my revenge. _

Pride poured through my skin. Neither of us mentioned how the mortal girl would be the one to finally end the immortal queen who had enslaved a continent of other immortal beings. I wasn’t even a blip on the radar, but something told me this onyx steam was only just beginning to show itself to me. Rhysand knew my human limitations, and he knew my breaking point, felt it that morning after the party… After my last night in the Spring Court.

He must have truly known of the stone filled with roaring winds and a raging black sea around my neck. He must have known it gave me a chance.

Reclining, he watched me - his eyes moving up and down my body where I sat still touching his leg, his hand in my grip. They came to a stop beneath my collarbone.

I couldn’t bring myself to speak the words, so I dared send them through the bond,  _ Do you know what this- _

__ “No,” he whispered with a harshness I hadn’t expected. Warmth spilled through the bond and he gave me an apologetic look. Could he really not even talk about this thing?

I tried not to think of the weight behind that. The most powerful High Fae in all of Prythian couldn’t even speak of the curse around my neck.

I gulped.

His tattooed hand reached up from where mine still lay tangled with it to brush a mangled rope of hair behind my ear. What I wouldn’t give for a warm bath.

“I can arrange that,” he said. “But you have to come to dinner with… a friend of mine.”

“A friend of yours?” I asked, terrified of a creature like the Attor trying to feed me a cooked insect.

A smile grew on my mate’s face. “The Dark Lord of the Night Court.”

“People might start to get the wrong idea if you keep referring to yourself in the third person.”

A laugh burst through his lips and I smiled in return. “Well, I’ll admit I’m quite different here than I’d like to be, and though I’m sure you’ve gathered as much, there is still much of this… persona that I haven’t wanted to show you. I wish I never had to.”

“Alright,” I said.

“Alright?”

“I’ll do it.”

He watched me steadily, as if he was expecting me to suddenly change my mind. “There will be faerie wine that will make you forget, make you oblivious to the night so you don’t have to witness me in that element, or anyone else. It won’t be the most pleasant environment for you.”

“No wine,” I said, my voice cold as ice. The amulet throbbed at my chest.

He waited a few heartbeats before nodding.

“When?” I asked him.

He twirled the ends of my matted hair around a tattooed finger. 

“Tonight.”


	14. Chapter 14

He made a spectacle of my exit, swinging the door open without moving a muscle to reveal the two guards who’d dragged me here. Rhysand waved a lazy hand at them from where he stood, far from where I now stood in the large bedroom. “She accomplished her task. Take her back.”

They grabbed for me, but he bared his teeth in a smile that was anything but friendly - and they halted. “No more household chores, no more tasks,” he said, his voice an erotic caress. Their yellow eyes went glazed and dull, their sharp teeth gleaming as their mouths slackened. “Tell the others, too. Stay out of her cell, and don’t touch her. If you do, you’re to take your own daggers and gut yourselves. Feyre is mine, now. Understood?”

Dazed, numb nods, then the blinked and straightened. I hid my trembling as my mate wielded his magic before me for the first time. Mind control. Apparently powerful mind control, even in his reduced state Under the Mountain, since they beckoned for me, but did not dare touch me.

Rhysand smiled at me. “See you at dinner, Feyre, darling,” he purred as I walked out.

 

________

  
  


I nearly grabbed for one of the guards when we reached my cell and there was already someone inside. They stood at my back, idly watching the hallway as I walked through the iron door. I didn’t move far from the door, choosing to stick to the farthest position I could find form the stranger. Had the guards not seen the blonde woman? How could they miss her?

She stood with a regal grace I could never have copied, her blonde hair crashing down her shoulders like golden waves. She commanded the tiny cell as if it were a great hall filled with guests and party goers. An unpleasant party, judging from the sneer on her gorgeous face.

They wouldn’t have doubled me up in this cell. There was only one sleeping mat and no way two could fit on it. Besides - who wanted to be locked in a room this small with a potential criminal?

The iron door slammed behind me and we were alone.

I watched her like a caged animal. The door at my back, I checked the miniscule space for any element that could help me if she’d come to assassinate me.

“So,” she said, her voice delicate and soft. “You are Feyre.”

I didn’t let my face reveal a thing, instead I pressed my back against the door praying the guards would hear her unfamiliar voice and slide my exit wide open.

“A human girl, mate to the most powerful High Lord in the history of this continent.”

My heart was pounding in my ears and I felt in my chest for the bond to reach out for Rhysand. He needed to flee if we’d been found out. If Amarantha knew… 

She could already have him.

Anger bubbled in me and the amulet answered, coming to life with is magical heat.

“Relax,” she said. “I’m not here to kill you.”

I clenched my jaw, considering. Even if she wasn’t here to kill me, she didn’t exactly seem harmless. But if she wasn’t a foe and knew of our bond… “Are you…” I trailed off, unwilling to expose the name of one of Rhysand’s beloved.

“I am Mor,” the High Fae before me replied. “I’m here to check on your progress.”

“My progress?” I asked.

“You’re rescuing Rhysand, correct? At least that’s what Azriel told us after Rhys let him out of the carriage where you abandoned him in the Spring Court.”

Mor - this was Mor. Rhysand’s cousins. They looked nothing alike, except maybe for the fact they were undoubtedly the two most beautiful beings I’d ever laid eyes on.

I swallowed. “That’s true.”

“So, what’s the plan?” she asked, and I could feel the condescension coming.

“I’m going to kill Amarantha,” I said, my voice tight.

She tilted her head to the side. “Hm, and how do you plan to do that mortal?”

“I- I don’t know,” I admitted.

She looked off to the side as if pondering something difficult. “You don’t know? Interesting how Rhysand put the fate of his life and his country, his court and his people, in the hands of a girl who doesn’t know how she’s going to murder an immortal force that captured the continent. Don’t you find that interesting?”

“We know what we’re doing,” I seethed. “If we wanted your help we would have asked for it.”

“We? You and Rhysand are a we, are you?” She took a step toward me. “Rhysand is my family and  _ we  _ have been a team for hundreds of years before you were ever born, human.”

“Did you come here just to yell at me? Whole lot of good that’s going to do to help him, isn’t it?” I spat, refusing to back down. I avoided nudging the bond, raising the alarm to Rhysand, but I let the awareness of its presence, taut within my chest, fuel me. “I know he hasn’t spoken to you in decades. I know you miss him and I know you deserve to have him back. I also know how desperately he misses you. And Amren. And Azriel. And Cassian. I know he misses his home and his people.  _ I know. _ I’m not going to screw this up, so if you could kindly mind your own business and get the hell out of my face, I’d appreciate it.”

Neither of us looked away as heartbeats passed. My nostrils flared as heavy breaths paraded through my lungs, pumping with adrenaline.

Finally, a slow heart stopping smile pulled across her lips. “I think I’m going to like you, Feyre.” She took a step back. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” I told her. Rhysand would tear the mountain down stone by stone if he knew Mor was anywhere near Amarantha. 

“Neither should you,” she countered.

“That’s different and you know it.”

Her smile only grew. “I’ve always wanted a sister, you know.”

My eyes fell flat. “Yeah, well, me too,” I grumbled. I felt so far from Elain and Nesta now. They had never wanted me, never really appreciated me. Even Elain’s dry comforts were hollow. Surely family meant something more than the scraps they’d left for me over the years.

“Do you have family?” she asked quietly.

I looked in her eyes, warm and inviting. Gone was the calculating heiress. 

“I did, but we were never close.”

“Your parents?”

I looked away from her, wishing there was a window, even one with bars, just so I could see the sky or hear the birds sing. “My mother died when I was young. My father lost all of our fortune and became crippled in the process. I do have sisters - two of them - but it wasn’t until I came to this side of the wall that I realized the way they treated me. They’re older than me, but I was charged with feeding them, clothing them, providing for them… Never to receive a thank you… Not even a hug…” I trailed off, lost in thoughts of painting our old kitchen table and the dresser my sisters and I had shared. They’d probably burned them all since I left.

“That’s not what family is,” she sighed before continuing, “at least, I’ve learned that’s not what it’s supposed to be like. My parents hated me. They wanted to sell me… For my virginity. I was an asset, not a daughter.”

My own pain was mirrored in her face in such a vulnerable way that I looked away, down to my tattooed arm. I traced the whirls and turned over my palm to greet the tucked away eye.

“Rhys gave you that?”

My eyes darted to hers, but she was carefully inspecting the ink from a distance. “Yes. It’s our bargain.”

“Your bargain?” she asked, still looking at my hand.

I considered telling her about the amulet - about the way it had healed me and Rhysand was only trying to cover for its displaced magic. But the way he had refused to speak of it… 

“He’s aiding me in my trials for Amarantha in exchange for spending one week of every month with him.”

She tilted her head back and let out a strong laugh.

“Oh, holidays, too,” I added, letting a smile play at my lips.

Her laughter grew and she pulled up a hand to her stomach.

“And I’m supposed to hug him periodically,” I disclosed as soft giggles escaped me despite myself.

We laughed together and something clicked in me. I could do this. I could really do this. I could get us out of here. I  _ would  _ get us out of here and we would go back to the Night Court with Mor and Azriel. I would meet Cassian and Amren and we would share dinners and stories and laughter.

Lots and lots of laughter.

I wasn’t sure when the tears started falling from my eyes, but Mor kept a sweet smile on her face as she settled herself, watching me.

She knew it, too.

“I should probably go,” she said finally.

I nodded, leaving the trails of wetness on my cheeks for her to see. I would not brush these tears away.

“I’ll see you at home, Feyre.”

And then she was gone in a whisper of shadows.


	15. Chapter 15

I decided to toy with the idea of shielding my mind. The idea of an enemy fae weaseling into my mind made my skin crawl. So I sat with my legs crossed in the middle of my room, harnessing every ounce of focus I had into imagining my skull was a shield around my mind. Hours passed while I imagined myself as a fortress, doing my best to remain focused, but it was a struggle.

_ I’ll see you at home, Feyre. _

Home. I tried to remember the vague feelings I’d held of my first home, before the ramshackle hutch near the forest, but there wasn’t much left. There was a brief time, when I’d be painting poppies or a trellis of vines leading up to an ivory balcony, that I’d pictured the Spring Court as my home. There was a time I’d felt safe there.

It hadn’t lasted long.

I couldn’t picture the Night Court. Supposedly, Under the Mountain was based off the place, but I had a hard time believing that someone like Mor lived in these conditions. She was a star in herself. I still felt her presence long after she’d winnowed away. I imagined her with Azriel and Mor. Oh, and Cassian. I wondered what Rhysand’s general would be like… I’d never met a general before. The sentries in the Spring Court had never spoken to me much, and I suppose Tamlin functioned as a general among them in a way. It seemed like such a serious position. I pictured Cassian as a wise, old man leading men onto a battlefield from a great white stallion.

Something told me the Night Court probably didn’t use horses.

I brought my attention back to my shield. I pictured it as a wall, a layer around my thoughts. Form-fitting steel. My pulse suddenly grew stronger and I looked around the cell as if something had startled it without me noticing. Maybe that wall had kept me in instead of others out. But no, I was still alone, and a little cold, and as I lost focus my heartbeat settled to normal.

I tried again, this time closing my eyes. I relaxed my hands in my lap and focused on my breath. My imaginary wall pulled down like a curtain within my thoughts, coating the inside of my head. 

My pulse beat deep in my chest. Over and over and over.

Not my pulse.

The Amulet of Storms.

My eyes darted open and steam surrounded me like a sweet fog.

I jumped up to my feet just as two High Fae females appeared beside me through slivers of darkness just like Rhysand normally did. But while he’d solidified into a tangible form, these faeries remained mostly made of shadow, their features barely discernable, save their loose, flowing cobweb gowns. They remained silent when they reached for me. I didn’t fight them - there was nothing to fight them with, and nowhere to run. The hands they clasped around my forearms were cool, but solid - as if the shadows were a coating, a second skin.

They had to have been sent by Rhysand - some servants of his from the Night Court. They could have been mutes for all they said to me as they pressed close to my body and we stepped - physically stepped -  _ through  _ the closed door, as if it wasn’t even there. As if I had become a shadow, too. MY knees buckled at the sensation, like spiders crawling down my spine, my arms, as we walked through the dark, shrieking dungeons. None of the guards stopped us - they didn’t even look in our direction. We were glamoured, then; no more than flickering darkness to the passing eye.

The faeries brought me up through dusty stairwells and down forgotten halls until we reached a nondescript room where they stripped me naked, bathed me gently, and then - to my horror - began to paint my body.

Their brushes were unbearably cold and ticklish, and their shadowy grips were firm when I wriggled. Things only worsened when they painted more intimate parts of me, and it was an effort to keep from kicking one of them in the face. They offered no explanation for the paint, though I suspected it was a part of my dinner plans. I imagined what this  _ Dark Lord  _ side of Rhysand would be like. He seemed terrified of showing me, but apparently not enough to keep me from it when I’d accepted the idea. I hoped I would at least get some sort of clothing over the body paint since there would absolutely be more than just the Dark Lord of the Night Court attending this dinner. I did my best to be pliable and let them finish.

From the neck up, I was regal: my face was adorned with cosmetics - rouge on my lips, a smearing of gold dust on my eyelids, kohl lining my eyes - and my hair was coiled around a small golden diadem embedded with lapis lazuli. But from the neck down, I was a heathen god’s plaything. They had continued the pattern of the tattoo on my arm, and once the blue-black paint had dried, they placed on me a gauzy white dress.

Neither female even so much as touched the Amulet of Storms, not even during my bath. It hung from my neck like gold encrusted hellfire.

If you could call it a dress. It was little more than two long shafts of gossamer, just wide enough to cover my breasts, pinned at each shoulder with gold brooches. The sections flowed down to a jeweled belt that slung low across my hips, where they joined into a single piece of fabric that hung between my legs and to the floor. It barely covered me, and from the cold air on my skin, I knew that most of my backside was left exposed.

The cold breeze caressing my bare skin was enough to ignite panic in my chest. Fae were going to see me in this. Amarantha. Lucien. Tamlin.

I gagged at the thought.

But Rhysand would be there… Or would the Dark Lord still bring me the same comforting bond that he did? Would the Dark Lord still be my mate?

“Of course,” said a voice behind me. 

The shadowy faeries disappeared and Rhysand stepped into my view. Comfort instantly flooded the bond and I felt my back straighten and my shoulders fall back.

“You look…” His violet eyes glittered with stars. “Wow.”

I let a little smile pull across my cheeks. “I’m considering making the ink a permanent thing.”

“Oh yeah?” he idly replied, still looking down at my, er, dress.

“Mhm,” I mumbled, feeding off the bubbling fire in the bond. “Your servants were quite thorough.”

His eyes shot to mine. “Oh, Feyre, darling, are you trying to make us late for dinner?”

My lips twisted. “Well, if we have better things to do, by all means.”

He growled and was on me in an instant. His face inches from mine. I could feel his breath on my skin. I refused to look away, despite my pounding heart. The boldness he made me feel was addicting and suddenly I felt a thrill at parading around in front of everyone dressed like this, for Rhysand.

Eat your heart out, Tamlin.

He took a huge swig of a breath before reaching up to brush a finger through my golden brown hair. “What am I going to do with you, Feyre?”

My smile was wicked.

He sighed and gave a little shake of his head, but he didn’t back away. “The paint is enchanted. The dress itself won’t mar it, and neither will your movements,” he said and I was suddenly aware of how close his teeth were to my throat. I gulped as a different kind of heat pooled in me. “But it will show if anyone touches you.”

“Including you?” I asked.

“Including me.”

My breaths were heavy in my chest.

“I’m going to enchant the wine I give you to be water, but everyone will think you are drunk and beyond remembering their actions. That could prove dangerous - both for you and for them, if we use the advantage well.”

I gave a tiny nod. Any larger and we’d bump heads.

“Come,” he said, stepping away. “We’re already late.”

 

_________

 

We walked through the halls next to each other, not touching. The sounds of merriment rose ahead of us, and Rhysand held the corded bond between us completely taut. I couldn’t help what the tension was doing to my insides and I was all too aware of my peaked breasts, entirely visible beneath the sheer fabric of my dress. Not an inch of my body was left to the imagination, and the cold cave wasn’t helping: goosebumps raised in waves over my skin. With my legs, sides, and most of my stomach exposed save for the slender shafts of fabric, I had to clench my teeth to keep them from chattering. My bare feet were half-frozen, and I hoped that there might also be a bonfire at this dinner.

Queer, off-kilter music brayed through two stone doors that I immediately recognized since I’d slammed into them the day I’d arrived here, running from the Attor.

Rhysand gave our mating bond a squeeze before we walked into the throne room.

Faeries and High Fae gawked as we passed through the entrance. Some bowed to Rhysand, while others gaped. I spied several of Lucien’s older brothers gathered just inside the doors. The smiles they gave me were nothing short of lupine.

Rhysand didn’t touch me, but he walked close enough for it to be obvious that I was with him - that I belonged to him in this moment.

A wicked heat flattened the chills on my bare skin. 

Whispers snaked under the shouts of celebrating, and even the music quieted as the crowd parted and made a path for us to Amarantha’s dias. I lifted my chin, the weight of Rhysand’s golden crown digging into my skull.

It was he and I against the world, against this crowd, against Amarantha.

And we would win.

Our bond was fluid between us, warm and familiar now. I held my end and he held his. We were mates. Equals. I did belong to him, just as I belonged entirely to myself. And he - the High Lord of the Night Court - belonged to me.

Tamlin was seated beside Amarantha on that same throne, in his usual clothing, no weapons sheathed anywhere on him. I knew Rhysand would want to publically declare the bargain we’d struck; everyone needed to see him waging war with the High Lord of the Spring Court.

“Merry Midsummer,” Rhysand said, bowing to Amarantha. Thoughts of black flame and her blood streaming down that throne flooded my mind. She wore a rich gown of lavender and orchid-purple - surprisingly modest. I was a savage before her.

“What have you done with my captive?” she said, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes and for a second I was worried. Had this been a bad move?

Tamlin’s face was like stone - like stone, save for the white knuckled grip on the arms of his throne. No claws. Not yet.

My worries were dismissed upon the sight of Tamlin’s rage.

“We made a bargain,” Rhysand said and brushed a stray lock of my hair from my face. I forced a flinch, remembering my role tonight. He ran his fingers down my cheek - a gentle caress. It took everything I had not to melt with his touch like lightning on my testy nerves. The throne room was all too quiet as he spoke his next words to Tamlin. “One week with me at the Night Court every month in exchange for my healing services after her first task.” He raised my left arm to reveal the tattoo, whose ink didn’t shine as much as the paint on my body. “For the rest of her life,” he added casually, but his eyes were now on Amarantha.

The Faerie Queen straightened a little bit - even the eye on her finger seemed fixed on me, on Rhysand.  _ For the rest of my life  _ \- he said it as if it was going to be a long, long while.

He was letting everyone know he thought I would beat her tasks. I held back my fear that he’d get us caught with his brazenness, but I couldn’t help a glance at him. I stared at his profile, at the elegant nose and sensuous lips… 

I snapped my head back to the dias.

Games - Rhysand was playing a game with Amarantha - one I would have no idea how to participate in. I was now a key player, but this was not my game.

“Enjoy my party” was Amarantha’s only reply as she toyed with the bone at the end of her necklace. Dismissed, Rhysand put a hand on my back to steer us away, to turn me from Tamlin, who still gripped his throne.

The crowd kept a good distance, and I couldn’t acknowledge any of them, out of fear of revealing our ruse. I had to be unpleasant to Rhysand, at least until the wine came, the water-wine. I had to be a bitter, scorned lover filled with hate for the faeries around me - for Rhysand.

I kept my chin up in stubbornness.

Rhysand stopped before a table laden with exquisite foods. The High Fae around it quickly cleared away. If there were any other members of the Night Court present, they didn’t ripple with darkness the way Rhysand did; didn’t dare approach him. The music grew loud enough to suggest there was probably dancing somewhere in the room. “Wine?” he said loud enough for those around to hear, offering me a goblet.

I took the goblet from him and he smiled.

My heart raced as I sniffed the contents, images from the last time I’d drunk faerie wine threatened my mind and I felt sweat bead on my neck. The liquid was odorless, so I drank, holding onto the warmth of the bond. Rhysand still held it firm.

Water. It was just water.

My mate smiled a devilish grin.

“Come, Feyre, darling,” he whispered, pulling out a chair for himself. I watched him wordlessly until he gestured to his lap.

My nostrils flared. Slowly, I set myself down on him, the fabric of my dress falling between my open legs to expose them entirely. I reclined on him and he reached his arm behind me for my hip, holding me close. I couldn’t keep the arch from my back.

I felt his lips on my ear before I’d noticed him move. “If you ever want to be done with this, I can send you away in an instant,” he breathed. Chills washed down my spine. “If this gets overwhelming, you don’t need to stay.”

“Mmmm,” I mumbled and he laughed.

“You’re being a little too convincing, Feyre, darling.” He let his lips rest against my ear, each word like the briefest of kisses.

I yanked on the bond. “I can’t help it,” I managed to say.

He hummed against me and yanked the bond back. “If we weren’t Under the Mountain, I’d think this was a dream.” He trailed his words down my neck. 

I leaned my head to offer him my throat. “You dream of me, do you?” I teased, my eyes fluttering open and closed and open again.

“Oh, I’ve dreamed of you for a long time, Feyre,” he said kissing the crook of my neck.

I sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh?”

_ Three years ago, I had my first dream of you. _

I stiffened, but he held my hip and set his other hand on my thigh, smudging the blue-black paint.

_ I dreamt of your home, your hunts, your habits. I dreamt through your eyes. _

My heart stopped beating.

_ Once you were holding a brush, painting flowers on a table. I tried then, just the once, to push a thought back to you. Of the night sky - of the image that brought me joy when I needed it most. Open night sky, stars, and the moon. I never knew if you received it, but I tried, anyway. _

I wasn’t sure I was breathing.

He kept up our game, always aware of the gossiping faeries surrounding us. His fingers dug into me and his breath was hot on my skin.

My dresser. My precious dresser at home that I’d painted with the most brilliant night sky I’d ever imagined… It wasn’t imagined at all. It was Rhysand.

_ I got your message. I painted your night sky onto my dresser. _

It was Rhysand’s turn to freeze. I reached for the bond, letting it ground me - to him.

My mate.

For three years Under the Mountain he’d known he had a mate somewhere. He felt the bond even then, drawing us together. He’d felt the bond while Amarantha… 

Blood. I would have her blood.

I stared at him, watching him look off somewhere far away, lost in himself. I leaned into him and nuzzled into his neck. He melted around the touch leaning into me, squeezing my thigh.

_ You’d have found me,  _ I told him through the bond.  _ Even if I’d never come to Prythian, you’d have found me and we’d have been together. _

He rolled his head back and I let myself taste his skin, feeling a little drunk from his words.

_ Feyre,  _ he growled my name through the bond. His thumb started drawing lazy circles on my thigh, crawling higher and higher.

I leaned into him. I felt incredible. Beautiful. Strong.

His sharp exhale caressed my ear.

I felt myself purr. He stroked a knuckle down my bare ribs.

_ How about a dance, Feyre, darling?  _

Despite myself, I preened, rising from his lap to stand before him, bare save the sheer white gossamer slits falling down my risen breasts.

_ Anything for my Dark Lord.  _

 

______

 

I didn’t look for Tamlin or Lucien the rest of the night, though I knew they were watching. I didn’t even check to see if Amarantha was on to us. I spent the entire night dancing or in Rhysand’s lap, occasionally feeding him his dinner like the good slave girl I was. We didn’t mention our bond again, but we both clung to it - to each other - all night long.

And when I was finally back in my cell in the early hours of the morning I was covered in smeared blue-black paint.


	16. Chapter 16

I’d just finished picking at the hot dinner that had appeared moments before when the door creaked and a golden fox-face appeared - along with a narrowed metal eye. “Shit,” said Lucien. “It’s freezing in here.”

It was, but the handkerchief of a dress had started to grow on me. Why were people so keen to hide their body? There was a power in that presence as much as in the wealthiest of gowns. Not to mention, there was a steady heat enveloping my body from the Amulet of Storms still around my neck. No one had said anything about it last night despite the many who had eventually gathered around the High Lord of the Night Court to watch him torment the drunken mortal girl. I hadn’t been drunk, and had heard all their calls and whispers, but I had definitely felt like I was. Even the best experience in the barn with the boy from my old village was nothing compared to the tingling heat that built over the hours of sitting and dancing for Rhysand, his every touch more intoxicating that the last.

I shivered then, and my breasts peaked through the thin fabric.

Lucien unclasped his cloak and set it around my shoulder. Its heavy warmth unwanted weight atop the amulet’s presence. “Look at all this,” he said, staring at the paint on me, most of it smeared beyond recognizing its original pattern. I wondered if I could paint myself, or maybe Rhysand.

A blush rose on my cheeks.

“Bastard,” he spat, and I remembered the endgame.

“What happened?” I got out, wondering if I was supposed to be feeling a hangover despite the lack of one from when I’d actually ingested faerie wine.

Lucien drew back. “I don’t think you want to know.” I studied the remnants of handprints on my waist and thighs. Were we really that revolting? I could have giggled at the scene we must have caused for them all - Tamlin especially. But I steeled myself, remembering the value of this all. I had to protect Rhysand just as he protected those he loved.

“Who did this to me?” I asked quietly - my eyes tracing the spoiled paint.

“Who do you think?”

My heart clenched at the insinuation of my mate and I squeezed the bond. “Did - did Tamlin see it?” I sputtered.

Lucien nodded. “Rhys was only doing it to get a rise out of him.”

The dark fear that it was true - that the only reason he’d strung me this far along was to mess with Tamlin and find his own way out of the mountain - slithered through my spine and I shook again.

Then Rhysand wrapped himself around the bond, sending warmth for me. I would not be swayed by fear.

“Did it work?” I avoided looking at Lucien in the face, letting shame drip through my features.

“No,” Lucien said. 

Fury rippled in my bones. This male dared claim to love me then completely abandon me when I laid my life down for him. I cringed at the thought of what could have happened to me Under the Mountain had Rhysand not have found me. If I’d actually come seeking to save this man who gave no thought to saving me… 

At once the bond and the stone at my chest burned a quick sear, startling me before settling. 

I schooled my features. “What - what was I doing the whole time?”

Lucien let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his red hair. “He had you dance for him most of the night. And when you weren’t dancing, you were sitting in his lap.”

Sensual heat pooled in me, and I hoped Lucien would see my deep gulp in a different light.

“And this wasn’t the kind of dancing you were doing with Tamlin on Solstice,” Lucien said, his face taking on a rosy tint. He sighed and grabbed my left arm, examining the tattoo. “What were you thinking? Didn’t you know I’d come as soon as I could?”

If I’d waited for him, he’d have seen my arm was already fully healed with no explanation and Amarantha would have blamed him and killed him. But I couldn’t tell him that. Instead, I pulled my arm away from him. “I was dying,” I whispered. “I had a fever - I was barely able to keep conscious… How was I supposed to know you’d come? That you even understood how quickly humans can die of that sort of thing?”

He gave me a stern look. “I made an  _ oath  _ to Tamlin -”

“I had no other choice,” I declared. He could take it or leave it.

“Don’t you understand what Rhys  _ is _ ?”

I withheld my growl, but it was getting harder and harder to abstain from defending my mate amidst everyone, especially Lucien - someone I might deem my friend. I diverted my eyes from the fox-masked male, only to see the steam before I felt the slow burn of the stone hanging from my neck.

Lucien gasped. “What is that?”

Startled, I rose to my feet and the thin fog vanished. My chest went cold. Fear flew through me like a shock to my nerves. I hadn’t been aware - I hadn’t been in control. And Lucien… Lucien had seen.

He walked to the door, and I noticed how stiffly he moved. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Feyre,” he said, his throat bobbing, and he slipped out the door.

  
  


___________

 

The next night I was bathed, painted, and dressed for Rhysand once more, this time in sheer black.

The Amulet of Storms thrummed above my bare breasts. I’d considered taking it off, but I didn’t trust leaving it behind in my cell. Even if Rhysand could hide it, the possibility of Amarantha catching him - punishing him… I’d have to keep it on my person, the only way I would trust its security, even if its power had begun to overflow. Black mist had filled my cell twice that night. The magic, it seemed, was begging for release.

We must have been running late, because I didn’t see Rhysand until the two girls made of shadow had led me back into a hall toward the throne room when my mate joined into our group seamlessly. The girls disappeared seconds later. Our bond was loose and heavy in my gut. I gave the intangible cord a tug, but Rhysand did not return my gesture. I didn’t dare speak to him after that and he was content with the silence. 

Something was wrong.

We reached the throne room, and I braced myself for the gawking eyes of the hordes of fae. But it was Rhysand the crowd looked at - Rhysand whom Lucien’s brothers monitored. Amarantha’s clear voice rang out over the music, summoning him.

He paused, glancing at Lucien’s brothers stalking toward us, their attention pinned on me. Eager, hungry - wicked. I opened my mouth, not too proud to ask Rhysand not to leave me alone with them while he dealt with Amarantha, but he put a hand on my back and nudged me along.

“Stay close and keep quiet,” he murmured in my ear as he led me by the arm. The crowd parted as if we were on fire, revealing all too soon what was before us.

Not us, I amended, but Rhysand.

A brown-skinned High Fae male was sobbing on the floor before the dias. Amarantha was smiling at him like a snake - so intently that she didn’t even spare me a glance. Beside her, Tamlin remained utterly impassive. A beast without claws.

Rhysand flicked his eyes to me - a silent command to stay at the edge of the crowd. I obeyed, and when I lifted my attention to Tamlin, just to see if he might actually look at me - the girl fighting for his love and freedom - he did no such thing.

Typical.

Amarantha caressed her ring, watching every movement that Rhysand made as he approached. “The summer lordling,” she said of the male cowering at her feet, “tried to escape through the exit to the Spring Court lands. I want to know why.”

There was a tall, handsome High Fae male standing at the crowd’s edge - his hair near-white, eyes of crushing, crystal blue, his skin of richest mahogany. But his mouth was drawn as his attention darted between Amarantha and Rhysand. I’d seen him before, during that first task and at last night’s party - the High Lord of the Summer Court. Before, he’d been shining - almost leaking golden light; now he was muted, drab. As if Amarantha had leached every last drop of power from him while she interrogated his subject.

Rhysand slid his hands into his pockets and sauntered closer to the male on the ground.

The Summer faerie cringed, his face shining with tears. My heart ached with fear and shame as he wet himself at the sight of Rhysand. “P-p-please,” he gasped out.

The crowd was breathless, too silent.

His back to me, Rhysand’s shoulders were loose, not a stitch of clothing out of place. But in the bond, a sickening crawl pressed against me. Loathing tainted our cord. I gripped my inner self, keeping my emotions calm and away from Rhysand’s perception. I wouldn’t attempt to send anything to him. Better he pretend I wasn’t here to witness. I knew his talons had latched onto the faerie’s mind the moment the male stopped shaking on the ground.

The High Lord of Summer had gone still, too - and it was pain, real pain, and fear that shone in those stunning blue eyes. Summer was one of the courts that had rebelled, I remembered. So this was a new, untested High Lord, who had not yet had to make choices that cost him lives.

After a moment of silence, Rhysand looked at Amarantha. “He wanted to escape. To get to the Spring Court, across the wall, and flee south into human territory. He had no accomplices, no motive beyond his own pathetic cowardice.” He jerked his chin toward the puddle of piss beneath the male. But out of the corner of my eye I saw the Summer High Lord sag a bit - enough to make me wonder… wonder what sort of choice Rhys had made in that moment he’d taken to search the male’s mind.

But Amarantha rolled her eyes and slouched in her throne. “Shatter him, Rhysand.” She flicked a hand at the High Lord of the Summer Court. “You may do what you want with the body afterward.”

The High Lord of the Summer Court bowed - as if he’d been given a gift - and looked to his subject, who had gone still and calm on the floor, hugging his knees. The male faerie was ready - relieved.

Rhys slipped a hand out of his pocket, and it dangled at his side. I could have sworn phantom talons flickered there as his fingers uncurled slightly.

_ I’m sorry,  _ wafted through my mind so softly, so gently, I wasn’t sure I’d heard it at all.

“I’m growing bored, Rhysand,” Amarantha said with a sigh, again fiddling with that bone. She hadn’t looked at me once, too focused on her current prey.

Rhysand’s fingers curled into a fist.

The faerie male’s eyes went wide - then glazed as he slumped to the side in the puddle of his own waste. Blood leaked from his nose, from his ears, pooling to the floor.

That fast - that easily, that irrevocably… he was dead.

That was Rhysand at a fraction of his power. That was Rhysand, the most powerful High Lord of them all, enslaved. And I was supposed to do what he could not.

This time I felt the mist before it appeared, noticing a nearly imperceptible shift in my body, my spirit - my being. I focused on my breathing, knowing if I panicked the magic would only grow. No one was paying me any mind right now. No one had seen. If I could just rein it in, all would be fine.

“I said shatter his mind, not his brain,” Amarantha snapped.

The crowd murmured around me, stirring. I wanted nothing more than to fade back into it - to crawl back into my cell, into safety, invisibility. Sweet obsidian steam materialized from the stone around my neck.

Rhysand shrugged, his hand sliding back into his pocket. “Apologies, my queen.” He turned away without being dismissed, and didn’t look at me as he strode for the back of the throne room. I fell into step beside him, doing my best to hide my trembling. The mist had lessened, but I could still feel its sticky magic cold on my skin.

The crowd stayed far, far back as we walked through it. “Whore,” some of them softly hissed at him, out of her earshot; “Amarantha’s whore.” Many of them offered tentative, appreciative smiled and words - “Good that you killed him; good that you killed the traitor.” 

Rhysand didn’t deign to acknowledge any of them, his shoulders still loose, his footsteps unhurried. I couldn’t say the same for me. My shorter, rushed gait behind him slammed my bare feet into the mountain ground. For forty-nine years my mate had been exposed to this abuse, to these killings, this torture; for nearly half a century that beast of a female had forced him into her bed. She’d done this to him. For decades he’d endured this.  _ Decades _ . I found myself drawn to turn away from Rhysand - drawn to Amarantha. Black fog curled around me, spilling from my pores in a glorious multifaceted mist, as I watched Rhysand strolling further and further ahead of me. My steps slowed and slowed until I was watching Rhysand reach the food at the back of the room. He grabbed for two goblets and turned to hand me one - only to see me much too far away.

I felt his panic through the bond just as I felt the eyes of the crowd on me - on my magic.

It’s sickening sweet stench was nectar to my fury as I took in Rhysand’s wide violet eyes before pivoting to march back to the dias. Again, the crowd parted for me. Whispers overtook the great hall like the cascading roar of an ocean’s wave. If I moved any faster, I would be running. The amulet’s pulse was bleating in my ears, a hollow song of timbering drums. The moment his throne appeared through the crowd my attention was drawn directly to Tamlin, because, for the first time, he was actually looking at me. I returned his stare, unflinching.

When I turned my gaze to Amarantha, the mist was rippling from me faster - like breaking waves - and spread along the ground. The crowd backed away, wary of the encroaching fog.

“I was wondering when you’d decide to use that heirloom,” Amarantha mused cocking her head to the side. She was smiling -  _ smiling _ \- at me. She’d known of the Amulet of Storms and let me keep it, just waiting for me to try and challenge her. 

The fabric of my sheer black dress billowed in the ethereal night winds of the fog at my feet. I was seething, my vision clouding.

“Before you embarrass yourself, mortal girl,” she hummed, twiddling her bone necklace. “I’ll offer you a final task - no third necessary, and our terms will remain the same.”

As wild as it felt, I bared my teeth at her, ready to audibly snarl. “Are you that eager to free me and my friends? Are you that scared?”

Her smile melted into a hardy grimace, her nostrils flaring, and I could see her eyes peeling the bones from my flesh in her mind.

The crowd to my right parted and three sentries appeared, each hauling a prisoner - their faces hidden by silken bags over each of their heads. They were led before me - just on the edge of the black fog - and shoved to their knees in a line. The sentries left the prisoners with me and melded back into the crowd. I struggled to imagine Amarantha’s plan beyond the tunneled lens of gauzy magic filling my sight, still growing inside me. But then three servants appeared, coming to stand next to each of the three kneeling faeries. In their long, pale hands, they each carried a dark velvet pillow. And on each pillow lay a single polished wooden dagger. Not for a blade, but ash. Ash, because… 

“Your final task, Feyre,” Amarantha bit out, gesturing to the kneeling faeries. “Stab each of these unfortunate souls in the heart.”

It was nearly impossible to focus on her words. The buzzing of power had become my essence, my body. I felt both nothing and everything. I was so far from who I’d thought I was, but more fully myself than I’d ever felt before. Lines blurred in my mind as the magic filled me, fueled me, focused me, became me. 

I could feel Amarantha’s blood pumping in my chest when our eyes met. I could smell it, taste it; the carnal need to strip her of it devoured me. Pulling on the magic welled inside me, I rose the deathly mist from the ground, covering the petrified faeries at my back. In the distance I heard small, high-pitched  _ cracks  _ followed by muffled shrieks. It was a melee of frozen lightning, sending pricks of ice through those it touched during its rise within my fog until it encompassed the entire room. I was surrounded then, by a wall of hellish midnight mist, cutting out the entire crowd, leaving me alone face to face with Amarantha.

She had reformed her earlier disgust, instead looking at me with a bored noncommittal stare. “So dramatic,” she waved a flippant hand at me. The only recognition of my display was the quaking pillows in the three servants’ hands. Amarantha’s spine was straight, her shoulders back and steady. “Now, did you really think I wouldn’t notice?” she purred, tapping her fingers on the arm of her chair. But her eyes weren’t meeting my own. 

I gave a quick look over my shoulder to see Rhysand standing ahead of the crowd, swallowed by my translucent darkness, his own presence of the night only discernable in the stars that kissed each of the tendrils swelling around him. His power glittered with life and hope, whereas my fog was an emptiness that stole and devoured. An instinctual, animal growl barreled through me at the sight of him. He was too close to Amarantha - to the threat - too close to ever having her hands on my mate again. “Leave him out of this.”

“Oh, dear, human girl,” Amarantha purred. “It seems you have fallen for my precious Rhysand.” The stone at my chest sang against my skin, the black steam pouring from its face to weave a trail around my body. “I can hardly blame you, he is quite a charmer, isn’t he?” A feline smile adorned her face. “I can only hope I haven’t been exhausting the High Lord too much before you’ve had your turn.” For the first time, Tamlin’s claws flew from his hands. Amarantha cackled. “Oh, how fun! You didn’t notice, Tamlin, dear? What wasn’t obvious enough for you to see it? Him betting on her victories? Their healing bargain? Their matching tattoos? The way she danced for him all night long wearing nothing but a veil for a dress? Or was it not enough that she used his lap for her dinner seat? I’m surprised we weren’t an audience for my sweet Rhysand giving Feyre here a ride in front of everyone.”

The Amulet of Storms was branding into my chest. I smelled the burning flesh beneath my nose, felt the searing pain, but it was nothing in comparison to the bottomless pit of magic burrowing inside me. Mist was growing in density around us, transforming into opaque smoke, biting cold to the touch. It swirled restlessly through the great hall. The predecessor of the tempest to come - of the storm brewing in my chest.

Rhysand felt it, too. The bond was wide open and I felt him waiting on his end, wary of the onslaught building inside me. Still, I felt his edge, the wild, relentless waves of his own powerful night rolling against my back in the fog. He was prepared, he was telling me, to fight by my side.

Tamlin’s claws shook with anger as he stared between me and my mate. I still had yet to decide if I wanted to bury him in my storm with the Faerie Queen. They deserved each other in hell.

“You may  _ try _ to kill me, girl,” Amarantha teased, clutching her bone necklace between pale fingers, her knuckles growing white. “But then I won’t be able to undo my curse.” She leaned forward, an ugly smile marring her face.

“Oh well,” I said, my voice clipped. Loose golden brown hair whipped around my face as the wind of my smoke built a whirling wall of magic around myself and the dias. I felt the tickle of the magic in the air caress my cheek, as if begging me to release it, begging me to show her that this was only a drop.

Amarantha curled her lip, rising to her feet, something I had yet to have seen her do since I’d been in her presence. “You have two choices, mortal bitch,” she sneered, closing the distance between us, approaching the three faeries on the ground before me. “Kill them or I kill you.” I heard the beastly growl from behind me along with the unsheathing metallic sound of claws. I felt the rage of my mate in my chest.

With a flick of her wrist, Amarantha removed all three satin bags, flying off the heads of the imprisoned fae with magic.

I felt the realization like a sword through my chest, piercing the bond before I saw what she had done. The faerie closest to me was barely familiar. I hadn’t ever seen him before, but he reminded me of someone else with his tanned skin and dark hair. I laid my eyes on the other two faeries and had my answer.

Between me and Amarantha were Mor, Azriel, and Cassian, down on their knees.


	17. Chapter 17

He lunged faster than I could blink. Starlight rippled through the suffocating smoke as his magnificent form shot across the room in darkness. I watched my mate with glorious pride as he came upon Amarantha, claws at the ready. With one quick swipe, blood oozed from her once flawless immortal face.

Her snarl snapped like a panther’s, feline and visceral, as she tossed him aside with powerful, unseen magic from the flick of her wrist. He fell flat on the foggy ground, but immediately peeled himself up to launch at her once again.

I felt my growls bellowing in the pit that was becoming of my chest. My body begged to join my mate but some part of me knew that the Amulet of Storms was still growing its dark power around my throat. Its pulse had become my pulse, its bleating presence was now my presence. My magic clouded the room until the crowd disappeared in opaque fog, its whirling blackness a hurricane between myself and my mate in his battle.

“Oh, sweet, Rhysand,” Amarantha cackled. “How rude of you not to have introduced me to your friends sooner.” He roared at her before slashing at her gown with his claws.

His inner circle was still knelt before me. I pressed against the magic of the amulet to drag myself to them. I looked to their bondage, ready to snip the ash cords with mist, when a figure appeared. Stepping through Mor and Azriel, the outline of a tall fae male came into my view with long golden hair whipping around his face in the dark winds.

“Feyre, let’s go,” Tamlin said, his hand out for me, ready to whisk me away.

Somewhere I had once possessed humanity. Somewhere I had mercy and empathy. But now… Now I had smoke and mist. I had fury and magic. I had a bond screaming with the rage of my warring mate, fighting for my life. Now I had this blind male standing in the way of my mate, of my family, of our victory - our freedom - and my kill.

“Feyre,” he urged me.

I felt the tickle of icy black mist climb through my lungs as I breathed it to life. Death poured from my lips, darker than smoke, darker than night, infinite. It wove like a cunning serpent, its prey predetermined. Tamlin didn’t see it. He didn’t move. He couldn’t see through the smoke: through the storm.

Blue lightning cracked through the throne room as another roar from Rhysand reached my ears. My nostrils flared just as my death’s serpent reached Tamlin. It slithered over his shoulder and wound around his chest in a foggy outline, slinking to his throat before it formed the true face of an asp. With one quick strike it tore its fangs into Tamlin’s neck, ripping open his flesh and crawling inside. The High Lord of the Spring Court’s face was frozen on me, his hand still outstretched. His skin turned pale, before fading into black and then into dust.

Then Tamlin was gone.

I listened to the amulet as its power buzzed through my veins. I listened to it leading me as I clenched my fist and the bonds that held the three on the ground turned to mist before they disappeared altogether. Cassian and Azriel jumped to life, turning to join Rhysand. Mor gaped at me. I couldn’t imagine what I looked like anymore. I felt as if I were made of smoke. There was no body left of me. Was I even Feyre anymore?

But instead of saying anything, she simply sniffed the air, staring at the Amulet of Storms with wide eyes, before turning to join the melee.

I looked down and felt my stomach churn. The stone of raging midnight waters had burned itself into my chest, melting away my skin and muscle like it was nothing more than a frozen pond. The smell of burning flesh overwhelmed me. More than half of the stone had burned through my breastplate, bone now lining the troubled gem. Somewhere in my mind I remembered the agony. I remembered this happening. I remembered feeling this pain.

But now I felt no such thing. 

I turned to Amarantha who was toying with my mate and his companions, and I let my glassy sight cover with black mist. My pulse was a song of wild thrumming, laced with my black breath steeling itself from my lips as it searched for her. My magic begged for release, and I let it take over. I let it take my body. I let it have me.

The Faerie Queen felt my presence. If she cared that I’d ignored her final task and freed the Night Court fae, she didn’t show it. With a twitch of her lip, she dropped my mate and his court to the ground. The first drops of his blood I’d ever seen fell from Rhysand’s temple as he connected with hard stone. His night shrunk around him, bearing closer to his skin.

“Do you really think you can defeat me with only a necklace?” Amarantha mocked me, padding my way, turning her back on Rhysand with such carelessness. My vision burned. “I can’t wait to have you  _ and  _ Rhysand at my mercy. Think of the centuries of torture I can offer to  _ mates _ .”  I felt my shoulders fall back, my chin tilt, my eyes closed. Magic sung in my blood. “I could build you a cage in my room to watch…”

I felt the stone searing into my flesh, my bone, my heart.

I breathed death.

The dark magic flew in slippery tendrils to surround Amarantha, but she did not balk. She took strong, steady steps into the fog that surrounded me.

“If you think your magic show is anything compared to my power, you are sorely mistaken,  _ girl _ .”

Beyond the mist, beyond the black and the blood, beyond the death and the fear, my voice was somehow still my voice. “If you think you are ever touching my mate again,  _ you  _ are sorely mistaken, bitch.”

She flung her hands to my neck and I pulled on all the magic I could muster, sending the crackling blue lightning for her heart - smoke seeping into her mouth, her eyes, her ears, her pores. 

But before I could see if she paled like Tamlin, or crumbled just as he did, I heard the quick snap of my spine beneath her touch. 

I went numb.

 

_____________

  
  


I collapsed to the floor, my body was gone. I felt nothing for eternal seconds. The black evaporated all over the room. The crowd of fae were silent, their fear humming in their quick heartbeats. They fumbled amongst each other - adjusting to the bright light without my smoke. Amarantha howled in laughter above me.

“ _ Feyre! _ ” Rhysand roared.

“ _ Fool _ .” Amarantha turned toward him. “You think she was worthy of you? A  _ High Lord _ ? You think that mortal girl deserved anything at all?”

Rhysand just yelled my name again.

I failed him. I had failed him.

My skin prickled beneath my neck.

I should have stopped her. I should have saved him.

He broke her hold, leaving the others on the ground as he launched himself at her again, swift as shadow. She merely lifted a hand and he was blasted back down by a wall of light. 

Warmth encroached on the cool lifelessness of my fingertips as I lay on my back watching my mate hit the ground and rise once more. He lunged for her again with his beastly talons. He slammed into the invisible wall Amarantha had raised around herself, and sensation returned to my chest.

The sensation of agonizing pain.

The ancient chain around my neck was empty. The stone was gone, buried inside my exposed heart.

One by one, as if a hand were shoving them in, his talons pushed back into his skin, leaving blood in their wake. He swore, low and vicious. “You were planning this all along,” she seethed at Rhysand. Her magic hit him again - so hard that his head cracked against stone. No one made a move to help him. His friends were trapped beneath a wall of magic. And I… 

I was stuck.

She struck him once more with her power. The red marble splintered where he hit it, spiderwebbing toward me. With wave after wave she hit him. Rhys groaned.

My neck was thrashing with pain as my nerves reawoken. 

Rhysand’s arms buckled as he fought to rise, and blood dripped from his nose, splattering on the marble. His eyes met mine.

Our bond went taut.

And then I realized, looking into his wide, frightened eyes that I was dead. When he looked at me - he saw me dead. 

My hair grew damp against my ear and I looked down, my blood was tinged with black tar as it poured from my open mouth.

Amarantha had snapped my neck.

I was dead.

But I was most certainly not dead. I felt my dark pulse growing, kindling like a winter fire within me.

The Amulet of Storms.

It was inside of me - in my heart - pumping my blood with black magic.

“Stop,” I breathed, blood still draining from my mouth as I strained to rise. My head was still turned unnaturally to the side.

Amarantha stopped short. “ _ You piece of mortal filth, _ ” she fumed, turning back to me. I pulled myself up to a knee before she was there, kicking straight into my stomach. I went flying, black blood painting the floor. 

But it did not matter. I felt the magic returning, calling to my new blood.

With a deep, twisted breath I stood on my feet. Before I could take the time to cringe, I reached for my head with both hands, one on either side of my skull, and jerked it back into place with an earth shattering  _ crack _ . Icy mist flared through my muscles, filling my body with potent energy. I felt stronger, quicker, secure.

Amarantha was on me in a second. With a bony hand she reached straight for the gaping hole in my chest where blood now ran black as it flowed down my mostly naked body. But as soon as her skin touched the Amulet of Storms where what was left of my heart still sat, she froze, her face inches from mine. Vile loathing smeared across her face.

I let every bit of hate and malice for the crimes she’d committed to my mate devour my mind as I leaned my face into hers. She bared her teeth at me before I summoned all the dark magic at my mercy into a single breath of sickening sweet mist. She breathed it in between snarls of rage that boomed through the hall.

Her hand fell at her side just as her magic fell around me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mor leap up followed by the Night Court males to run to Rhysand’s aid. Amarantha’s skin paled before a single drop of blood fell from her nose.

“ _ What did you do _ ,” she choked out, her voice less than a breath.

The dark wetness blossomed from her ears and her eyes tinged red. Blood poured from her colorless face. I met her eyes until I watched as every speck of her lifeforce drained from her body, deepening from red to black until the tar of her blood ate at her own flesh. 

And then she was nothing but ash.

I fell to my knees in her black dust, unable to stand any longer. My ribs shook with pain and for a moment I thought maybe I would turn to soot too.

“ _ Feyre, _ ” I heard. He jerked on our bond, pulling my consciousness to him. Rhysand. Rhysand, my mate. He was here.

“I’m so sorry,” I tried to whisper.

I felt his hands on my skin and his fear through the bond as he beheld what was left of me. He wrapped me up, careful not to touch my open chest.

“No, Feyre,” he soothed. “You saved us… You saved us all.”

I felt my head nodding. He was nothing but a shadow in my black, foggy vision. He held me now. No part of me was touching the ground. Tired. I was so tired.

“Let’s go home.”


	18. Chapter 18

I awoke to a sunlit room. It took three short blinks before I could tear my eyes open to the wave of warm light. I could feel each sinew of muscle, each vertebrae in my spine ache under my efforts to turn my head. The largest wall of the room was mostly a window, looking out at winter-kissed garden with an empty stone fountain at its center. I could hear the crackling of a small hearth fire on my other side, but couldn’t muster the strength to tear my neck the other direction.

My neck.

It came back to me then. My broken neck. My death.

I was dead, yet somehow, here I was. 

Alive.

Alive because of my self-named Amulet of Storms. 

I lifted a fragile hand to the blanket pulled up to my chest, unsure if its wild shaking was from the pain or the fear at what I might see beneath. The cream quilt was heavy in my fingers, but I managed to pull it away to reveal my naked torso, covered only by a bandage wrapped around my chest like a second skin.

“I couldn’t heal you.”

If I hadn’t already felt near-death, then the panic of hearing the voice of a stranger so close to me without my knowing had definitely done its best to get me there. But it wasn’t a stranger’s voice, not exactly. I’d heard the voice before.

In a dream.

_ Amren?  _ I tried to say, but when I parted my lips to speak only breathless air escaped. 

“You’re extremely weak and your healing is slow,” she said, stepping around the bed to come into my line of sight. I would never have told her, but I couldn’t have been more grateful for her recognizing my weakness. “None of us could heal you. We even called in a professional healer… There was nothing we could do.”

I let that sink in. Was I actually dying? She had said my recovery was slow. Did that mean I was recovering, just slowly, or did that mean I was recovering  _ too  _ slow. That I wasn’t going to recover at all.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she whispered, and her eyes of wild silver lightning met mine. I got the feeling she hadn’t said those words in centuries. Her eyes were settled, brows a tiny bit down on her face. She was sad. Sad for me.

I tried to speak again. “Wha-” was all I got out before weak breathy coughs overtook me. I was dying. I had to be dying.

“The heirloom - the amulet - its imbedded itself in your heart.”

My coughing stopped. The air in the room suddenly felt far, far away.

“It’s keeping you alive. Pumping your blood. But even more than that,” she cleared her throat quickly, coming closer to the head of the bed. “It’s changed your blood, changed your essence. You’ve become something else.”

I felt my lip trembling, my ribs shaking with a sudden anxious cold.

“We can’t remove it or you’ll die.”

My eyes travelled back down to the exposed bandages across my breasts, nearly up to my collarbone. I looked back to Amren, hoping she understood my silent plea.

She did.

With small, nimble fingers she reached for a piece of fabric tucked into the folds of the dressing and pulled it back to reveal the place where smooth skin should be covering my beating heart. The place where ribs and breastbone should be. The place that now homed a gem buried deep into the cavern of my chest. It was still for the first time that I’d ever seen, its color now the darkest black. Darker than the strange shadows that followed Azriel. Darker still than the consuming night that Rhysand left in his wake with every step.

Rhysand.

My eyes shot to Amren’s and somehow she understood. 

“He’s dealing with business today - of course the first day he leaves your side you wake up.” I started to wonder if she had the same gifts of the mind as my mate. “I’ve already sent word to him that you’re conscious. I’m sure he’ll be here shortly,” she added.

At the idea of him coming I remembered the bond, then panicked that I hadn’t felt him yet. I hadn’t felt the cord within me since I’d woken and just as the swell of emotions began filling my chest, ready to drown me, I felt it. Somewhere beneath all the pain, there it was. 

The cord was taut. 

And then he was there, standing next to Amren, towering over her tiny frame.

Then he was crashing to his knees, bent over the bed, his face inches from mine.

“Feyre,” he whispered. 

_ Rhysand _ , I cried out through the bond.

His eyes misted and I was once again awed by the depth of the mating bond. This being - this male - was my partner, my friend, and supposedly, my equal. 

_ I’m here _ , he replied silently just as Amren decided this would be the ideal time to exit from the room.

_ I can’t… I can’t talk.  _ I tried to stay strong, to keep myself from mirroring his misty eyes, but everything was starting to feel so heavy. I felt one tear streak down my face to fall into my pillow.  _ Everything hurts.  _

_ Feyre,  _ he repeated.  _ You saved us all. And you… you died. _

The soft sob he choked on broke me into a million pieces. 

_ Mate,  _ was all I could think to say.  _ My mate…  _

_ I can let you rest,  _ he sent back to me through the bond.  _ I can make you sleep the pain away for however long you want. For as long as it takes. _

I considered.  _ How long has it been already? _

He cringed a bit.  _ Five days. _

Five days. I had slept for nearly a week and yet I still felt like my neck was broken only hours ago. I could feel the ache of the new blood - the black blood I’d watched spill from the amulet as it dove deep into the cavern of my body - now forcing its way through my too thin veins. I could feel the strain of each muscle, every string pulling and growing, realigning. 

My body was changing, morphing. And the idea of not knowing what I was becoming scared me more than anything. 

I stared into the violet eyes of my mate that said so many things, calling out to whatever soul might still be residing inside this broken flesh. Things I knew we shouldn’t be ready to say or even think. Yet I couldn’t help but think my eyes might be mirroring all those feelings right back to him.

And maybe I was afraid of that too.

Thoughts of seeing Mor and Azriel, even Cassian, after what happened… Of seeing my sisters again. 

Of Tamlin. 

I was going to puke.

Tragically, Rhys pulled a pan from the bedside table as my body started heaving. He held my face up as I messily emptied the clear nothings that were in my stomach. That pan had already been sitting there. This wasn’t the first time he’d helped me puke from my place as a vegetable in this bed. 

I hated the idea of being stuck here.

_ Put me to sleep,  _ I sent to Rhysand down our bond.  _ I want to sleep until I can get up. I don’t want to be trapped in this bed.  _

He watched me for a while longer and I could feel the words bubbling inside him as he kept retracting the idea of saying whatever it was that he wanted to tell me. And just as I was about to tell him to just fess up, the weight of my exhaustion hit me in full force.

I fell asleep staring into the deep, deep blue eyes of my mate.

  
  
  


________________

  
  


When I awoke for the second time there was a weight on my chest. For a brief second, sheer terror flooded me, thinking something was wrong with my stone for a heart. But a quick look to my side and I saw the cause.

Rhysand was passed out beside me, laying flat on his stomach.

Wings outstretched. 

One of them covered me like an extra blanket.

I remembered the claws I’d seen him summon before and wondered if there was more to the beast within my mate.

My mate.

I doubted that would ever grow old.

Would I?

Would I ever grow old with my new heart of dark magic?

I decided to let that thought go. There were at least ten horribly morose things I could be thinking about including that, but instead I decided to watch Rhysand sleep next to me. He wasn’t dressed like the Dark Lord, like I’d only ever seen him dress before. His black finery was replaced with the loose under-fittings of something much more casual. Behind him, on the floor near the door, I spotted the fighting gear, the leathers and the weapons he’d discarded before flopping into bed beside me. 

Had he slept with me every night? Had he been waiting for me to wake up again, slowly converting this room into his own?

Warmth flooded me and I felt the bond awaken, stretch, and groan within me.

I looked to Rhysand’s closed eyes, nearly completely covered by his blue-black hair that had grown since the last time I’d seen him.

I tested a few of my muscles. Still a little sore, but nothing in comparison to the agony I’d felt the first time I’d awoken to Amren. As gently as I could, I slid myself out from under my mate’s wing, letting myself ease down onto the floor before feeling safe to try and stand. I reached for the bedside table, steadying myself before rising.

Much more easily than I’d been expecting.

I padded softly to the door and turned the knob as slowly and quietly as I could, doing my best not to disturb my High Lord.

I entered a hall garnished with chandeliers of swirled, colored glass, illuminating the few polished doors on either side. I wandered, wondering if there were others in this house, behind those doors. I spied a wide oak staircase, only then realizing I wasn’t on the ground floor of wherever I was. At the bottom I stepped onto ornate red carpet that cushioned my every step.  The warm, wood panelled walls surrounded the two rooms I could see: a sitting room with a black marble fireplace, lots of comfortable, elegant, but worn furniture, and bookshelves built into every wall, and then a dining room with a long, cherrywood table big enough for ten people. 

With two seats occupied. 

Two males sat in chairs pushed far enough away from the table that they could jump to their feet in an instant if need be. They were both in the same fighting gear that littered the floor of my room upstairs. They both had the same tanned skin I’d noticed on Rhysand this morning - the skin that was pale when I’d known him Under the Mountain. They both had the same dark hair, though one was long and one was short. And they were both instantly recognizable.

I was frozen in place, remembering the last place I’d seen them.

On their knees before me as Amarantha demanded I kill them with an ash blade.

The way Rhysand had lost his mind upon seeing Amarantha had captured his friends… He was entirely prepared to give his life to defend them, to have saved their lives he would gladly have given his own.

The bond ached in my chest at the idea of it, both with love and unending sorrow.

Cassian snored softly, interrupting my reverie, and when I looked to him, Azriel was staring directly at me. 

“I should get Rhys,” he said, and though his voice was hushed, Cassian blinked beside him, turning to his friend before noticing that the attention was on me.

“Don’t,” I said. “He’s sleeping. I don’t want to wake him.” Then I noticed the wings on their backs, so similar to the ones Rhys had. Was that a power special to the Night Court? I’d have to ask Rhys about it later.

“I can promise you, he’d much rather we wake him to see you.” Cassian stretched his arms up and behind his head, knocking off a yawn before adding, “I mean, you’re  _ awake _ .”

“How long?” I asked.

Cassian looked to Azriel, as if looking for a soft answer, but the shorter haired fae simply said, “Over a month.”

A month. I’d been asleep for more than a month. I’d missed a month of my life. A month of recovering from the gem implanted in my chest. 

_ You’ve become something else,  _ Amren had said. 

Would I be different now? A different person? Had I truly died Under the Mountain and this life was only as good as a ghost of my old self?

I couldn’t even count the amount of burdens I felt mounted on my shoulders. My death. This evil stone. I could feel its weight pumping through me, its blood coursing through my veins. The idea of my unknown mortality. My left behind sisters. Lucien - where was Lucien now?

Tamlin. I couldn’t think about Tamlin. About what he’d done. 

About what  _ I  _ had done. 

What I couldn’t undo.

And then, somehow, the most and least complicated of all my problems: the mating bond. 

What I felt for that male upstairs in my bed… 

I didn’t believe there was a word for it, not after what we’d gone through. What we’d fought for - together. 

But then it was all so new. So permanent. 

How well did we really know each other?

Cassian and Azriel were staring at me, I realized, and I fumbled for something to say. Something that wasn’t as heavy as everything else I was thinking of. 

But it was Cassian who broke the silence before me.

“Can I ask to see it, or is that weird?”

I laughed, but then realized I’d come downstairs in nothing but thin, comfortable coral pants that cuffed at my ankles and a fresh bandage just like the one I’d had on when Amren had showed me the Amulet of Storms in its new home, inside me.

They kept looking at me, Azriel like he was about to tell me not to - that it was inappropriate. But they’d risked their lives for me, faced Amarantha with me when they didn’t even know me. 

I pulled down the top of the fabric bandage just low enough to show how my skin had healed perfectly around the rough edges of the stone - so black it looked like infinite emptiness. 

There was no hesitation when Cassian said, “Thank you.” And I knew he wasn’t talking about showing him the stone.

I trembled at the thought that these males - these strangers - were now my family. That we’d all nearly died together. That Rhys… 

He’d become everything so quickly. 

Too quickly?

I wasn’t sure if I’d have the time to find out.

And as if hearing my every thought down the bond, he appeared. I could feel him behind me even as his entrance was entirely silent. Cassian and Azriel both straightened in their seats, perhaps even showing a drop of fear at being in my semi-naked presence when I was the mate of their High Lord.

I turned around to face him, the stone still exposed to the air of the room around me. I could feel its presence, both in my bones and blood, and in the air as it was given exposure, potentially for the first time in months. Rhysand was unabashedly in his underthings he was sleeping in, gawking at me. His face molded into something between pain and fervor as his eyes surveyed every inch of my body, lingering on the gem that now replaced my heart.

“I’m sorry,” I said as Azriel and Cassian made their swift exit. “I didn’t want to wake--”

He filled the space between us in less than a second and wrapped his arms around me in a way I realized we’d never experienced before. I felt so many things for this male, for my mate, yet we had never even felt the full embrace of one another. Perhaps once, in a rushed moment in my prison cell. But this… This was nothing like that. It was like I’d been made to fit against him, like our bodies fit together instantly. The bond warmed into slow burning embers as I reached my arms up around his neck, nuzzling my face into his chest. His touch was firm, but gentle and I hoped the feeling that I was breakable would go away for the both of us someday.

And despite every fear, every burden… 

I was ready to see where this bond would take us.


	19. Chapter 19

“You do know you’re not wearing a shirt, right?”

I pulled my head back from where it’d been resting against his collarbone, looking him up and down. “You do know you’re not wearing pants, right?” I mimicked. I felt the grin slide onto my lips as we held each other in the foyer of the townhouse I’d woken up in. I felt his breath of a laugh rolling through his chest.

I waited for his comeback, but instead he said, “I woke up and you weren’t there.”

And the impact of that really hit me for the first time. He’d put me to sleep then stayed by me for weeks, waiting for me to wake up and the moment I do, I leave him behind. I felt a crack somewhere deep in my chest, the place I would have once called my heart.

“I’m sorry,” I said, running my fingers along the nape of his neck. “I wasn’t thinking at all, I was just so restless. I had to stretch my legs.”

He gave me a small nod and that’s when I noticed.

“Where are your wings?”

He pulled back from me, surprised. Had he not known he slept with them out? Hadn’t he woken up to them and known I’d have seen them when I got out of bed?

It took two heartbeats for him to fully unleash the massive black wings, woven with the red tint of their blood supply. They stretched out from his back and it felt like they filled the entire room. Slowly, I reached to touch one, to pet it.

And he yanked the wings back, folding them neatly behind him. 

I tried not to let the hurt show on my face. Maybe my secret thoughts, my fears, were right. The mating bond was too much, too fast.

_ We’ve still got a lot of recovering to do,  _ he spoke to me, caressing the bond.  _ Both of us. _

And for one fleeting moment I let myself think of Amarantha, of what she did to Rhysand for decades… 

The stirring in my chest startled me so much pushed away from Rhys and backpedaled until the dull roaring waters were soothed, the stone drifting back to sleep within me. My breaths were heavy and I was starting to feel the emptiness of losing so many weeks to sleep. My head was featherlight, my hands shaking.

“Feyre,” Rhys said, tentatively reaching a hand out to me until he saw me wavering on my feet. He caught me by the arm and pulled me to him, moving his hand to my lower back. He lifted my face with his other hand to meet my eyes with his. Everything felt foggy. Concern dripped from his features as his eyes searched mine.

“I’m hungry,” I mumbled.

He gave me a humorless laugh. “Well you’ve got a funny way of showing it. So dramatic.” But even as he said it, he was walking us back through the house, hopefully to a kitchen. I told myself I was walking by his side and ignored how heavily I leaned my weight against him.

He scrounged up some food for the both of us and we sat on a couple of bar stools near the kitchen island of black marble while I asked him why they all had wings. He explained what an Illyrian was to me while I nibbled on my sandwich and sipped my soup. He didn’t go into too much detail, but the idea that the most powerful High Fae in Prythian to be a half breed gave me some sort of satisfaction. The idea that you didn’t have to be noble - perfect - to be great.

“How are you feeling?” he asked after a long pause. 

“Great, actually.” And I meant it. I’d expected to wake up to at the least, extreme discomfort, but I’d felt perfectly normal. Better than normal, even. That is, until the amulet came alive in my chest. 

Rhys either heard me through the bond or saw the nerves written on my face because he pressed his eyebrows together, raising them in question.

“Earlier I… I was thinking about  _ her _ ,” I couldn’t say her name out loud, but he knew, “and the stone…” I took a deep breath just as comfort coated the bond. “The stone came to life. It stirred in me the same way it had nearly the entire time we were Under the Mountain.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, giving me a pinched look I hadn’t yet seen come from him. Just another reminder of how new we were to each other. I thought he was going to make me ask why before he finally continued. “I should have been more supportive of Amren’s heirloom, but,” he paused again, considering his words carefully. “Amren approached me with the stone once long, long ago. She’d told me it was ancient and had led her to me. She’d thought the amulet had chosen me. But,” he took a heavy breath, struggling through his thoughts, “the moment she gave it to me, it… let’s just say it rejected me. I gave it back to her immediately and have abhorred that memory ever since. I’d hoped I would never see it again, to be honest.” He ran a hand through his hair, mussing the midnight tresses that had started growing over his ears. “When I saw that you had it… That you had it and it didn’t affect you the way it had me. Well, I was scared. The idea that the ancient, dark magic that had affected me as it had… had then turned around and chosen my mate… I wasn’t sure how that was going to work and it wasn’t something I wanted to hastily bring up.”

I let him finish, but I couldn’t help how badly I wanted to run back up those stairs and lock myself in that room. Maybe spend another month or two inside, alone. I felt the way my eyes were glazing, losing focus. I tried to fix them, to mask myself, but then, I realized, he was my mate. I would never be able to wear a mask again. And suddenly I wasn’t so hungry anymore.

“I’m tired,” I said, inching my chair back to get up.

“Don’t do that.” He leaned toward me, his eyes stern, angry. “Don’t run. Don’t lie. Not to me.”

I placed both my palms on the table, trying to control my breathing lest I reawaken the amulet. “What do you expect me to do when you tell me you hate a part of who I am now? I didn’t  _ choose  _ this, and I can’t change it!”

“I know, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?” I rose to my feet, my voice near a yell.

“I’m scared, okay?” he countered, raising his voice along with mine. “That  _ thing  _ scares me. It’s uncontrollable, unpredictable, and way too powerful-”

“Too powerful for what?” I interrupted, pushing my chair away, making room for my escape. “Too powerful for me? Do you think I won’t be able to handle it? That I’m still some frail human?” 

“You’re definitely not a frail human.”

And the calm in his voice, the quiet, it made me stop.

“What do you mean?”

_ You’ve become something else. _

I nearly knocked my chair to the ground as I flew into a sprint up the stairs, fast, I noticed. Faster than I should be. I ran to the room I’d awoken in, flinging the door open and not bothering to shut it again. I searched blindly for a mirror until I noticed another door in the room and found myself  in a private bathing room. There, above the marble countertop that matched the ones downstairs was a wall of a mirror. I felt Rhysand behind me before I saw him, and though I was still a little pissed, his presence calmed my fear before I stepped in front of my own reflection.

And did not recognize myself.

I’d always felt fair, pretty, even. But I was never beautiful, not in the way Elain was, not like Mor. I’d always had some part of me too sharp in places and too soft in others. Something always seemed just off enough to keep me from that place.

But now.

I was beautiful.

Alarmingly so. 

Whatever had been missing before had found its place. I was taller, my hair longer, slightly deeper, now a warm, inviting brown that poured in soft waves down to my navel. My cheekbones had softened, my nose found its center, and my skin looked mythical in its perfection. I looked made to enchant, to entice. Curves that had once been average, were now striking. I had become a weapon of a different kind and it was too much. I wasn’t me anymore. All of this - it was too much. It was like I’d lost everything I was Under the Mountain. There was nothing of me left.

I was not human, but a quick look at my ears and I was not Fae either.

I was nothing. I had become nothing.

I turned away from my reflection, done seeing what this wretched stone had done to me.

_ You will always be whatever you want to be,  _ Rhys spoke through the bond, the method becoming a soothing elixir to my ever-changing panic lately.  _ You are your own master, in charge of your own destiny.  _ He moved closer until his chest was against my back. With one hand he reached for my chin and raised my face to look back into the mirror.  _ This does not change that. _

And despite myself, despite my terror - sheer horror at the thought - I knew I loved him then. I knew I loved him and that he loved me. We both knew, but the pressure… It was too much, too soon.

But it was there, waiting for us to catch up.

We would get there someday, together. 

  
  


_________


	20. Chapter 20

There was a reason this territory was called the Night Court.

Above us, the sky was an infinite sea of diamonds, enveloping everything in sight with its endless glittering dusts of stars. It gleamed with so much more life and omnipotence than I’d ever imagined in any of the paintings I’d ever attempted in its honor. And next to me stood the embodiment of that very limitless grace.

Rhysand had taken me to the roof, eager for a distraction from my discovery of my new siren’s body. I noticed his aim, but let him lead me to the small seating area, if you could call two white iron chairs a seating area, anyway. At first I hadn’t noticed why his smile was slow birthed across his face, but then it called to me. One look up and I was mesmerized, entirely enchanted. 

Exquisite emptiness and the stars.

That’s what I would call the painting I would attempt for the sake of this view. I couldn’t help but imagining painting the ceiling of the room I’d woken up in - or perhaps I should figure out if that was my room or not first. 

Through the bond, I could feel the glimmer of his pleasure at the sight of the sky - of the night.

Of his home.

And when I turned to look at him, he was already looking at me.

“I want to show you something,” he said, his voice a soft reflection of the night around us.

I pulled my brows together.

He flexed his wings, stretching them out behind his back in answer. I sent my tentative feelings through the bond, unsure of how to tell him I was afraid of pushing him too far. He’d flinched when I tried to touch his wings. I didn’t want him to think I needed that from him if he wasn’t willing to give it, if there were too many wounds where his wings were concerned.

And then the idea of his wings injured… 

Amarantha was back in my mind and it didn’t take a full second for my chest to take up a beat that I’d gotten used to not feeling. Instead of the pounding of my heart, the rage of the amulet was an assault on my blood, thick enough that I could feel it oozing through my veins. One look down at my wrists and I could see the webbing black vines beneath the thin skin. 

Before the panic could strike me, before the rage could overtake me, I was being pulled into the air.

I held in my scream as the rush of my weight being hauled into the sky within thick, familiar arms. These arms holding me were my first memories of him, catching me as I fell twice in one night, beginning this adventure with him. Would we have found each other if he hadn’t been able to come to Calanmai? If I’d never been taken and brought over the wall? Were we a coincidence or something so much more?

Rhysand was climbing higher and higher into the sky only to hang me above the greatest city I’d ever seen. Nowhere, not even when we had all our riches, had I seen a more beautiful place with so many buildings… So many homes for so many people. Safe people. People spared from Under the Mountain. People Rhysand had sold himself to protect. His grip loosened and it was all I could do to not squeeze him in desperate fear of being dropped. I turned my head to see his face, only to be caught off guard by the beauty of his wings melded of night, keeping us in flight with their massive glory.

How would I ever be able to compare to someone so impressive?

Just then, Rhys dropped us. We free fell through the star-kissed sky.

I held in my scream.

The brick roads beneath us were getting so close I could count them before he threw his wings out, gliding us along their surface, spinning so we could see every angle of the streets as we flew near to the ground. We evaded citizens who must have preferred to live their lives to the light of the stars in this town where it nearly demanded it of you with all its beauty. There were High Fae, but just as many lesser faeries mixed in. They laughed and waved as we shot by them, recognizing Rhysand. 

He flew us around wordlessly until morning light.

  
  


___________

  
  


We’d decided to have brunch in the House of Wind and I was glad I was already used to flying now because it was a long trip to the mountain home within Rhysand’s arms. His grip seemed tighter than last night and I couldn’t help but worry.

As if in answer, he said, “We’re meeting with all the others.”

_ Oh,  _ I thought at first, but then, “Why does that make you nervous?”

“When did I say I was nervous?” He replied with an even tone, even looking into my eyes.

But he couldn’t pretend I didn’t feel him through the bond. “You do realize I can feel you, too, right?” 

He watched me for a few heartbeats before I heard him say through the bond,  _ Having us all in the room together for the first time makes me...apprehensive. I haven’t even sat down with them all for a meal since I came home. _

“Really?” I asked, feeling the weight of his pain - both the pain of not seeing all his friends in the same place at the same time and the pain that kept him from doing so. 

His eyes grew thoughtful. “I’m sorry, I’ve just… I was recovering while you were asleep too.”

And my own pain at missing it, not being there for him, was endless.

We landed on an outside balcony facing glass walls. The crisp cold of winter bit against my skin despite the layers I’d dressed in. I’d chose a wintry sweater and pants beneath my overcoats, unable to imagine myself in a dress ever again. Not with the stone that resided within the skin of my chest.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked me as I turned around in his arms, which still happened to be on my body. I felt a flutter at the sight of his wings enveloping me slowly. The tenderness of it… 

“Are you?” I asked in return. 

To my surprise, his brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

I dared put a hand up to his cheek, and mercifully, he leaned into my touch waiting for my reply. “You said you hadn’t been all together with them since we got back.”

“No I didn’t.”

I broke his eye contact. “You sent it to me through the bond, earlier. You said you’d been recovering, too…” 

“I hadn’t meant for you to hear all of those thoughts,” he said, trailing off toward the end thoughtfully before moving a hand to the small of my back covered in my puffy layers. “Let’s go.”

The rush of warmth inside was incredible. I started to pull of my coat when someone’s magic made it disappear completely.

“You know you didn’t have to wear a coat,” Rhysand said, leading me into a room with a large dining table. “I didn’t wear one and I’m a perfect temperature.”

“Then why was I freezing the whole flight?” A minor lie. There was a bite, but I was far from cold.

He gave me a confused look, and I realized he’d been using magic to keep me warm.

I smiled.

He narrowed his eyes at me as he realized my game, but before he could respond we heard the mighty flap of Illyrian wings.

“Yeah, yeah I got it. I’ll never fly you up here ever again.”

Footsteps sounded from the balcony we’d just exited.

“Not sure why we thought tonight would be the night Amren and Cassian might be able to share such close quarters,” Mor said to no one in particular as the four of them came into view. Only Cassian and Azriel had wings. They must have brought Mor and Amren with them. 

As soon as she was in the room, Mor crushed me into a hug I was not expecting. The Illyrians approached their friend and gave him those handshake hugs I’d seen human men doing over the wall. The hug parts lingered a little longer than I think any of the guys would admit. Amren stood back, staring at the both of us with that edgy softness that she’d looked at me with when I’d first awoken,  _ over a month ago _ . 

Just as I thought she was going to say something thoughtful about all of them coming back together, about  _ us,  _ I realized, Cassian blurted out, “Let’s eat!”


	21. Chapter 21

 

**Azriel**

 

We sat in new places, accentuating all of our unease. Cassian managed a quick look at me before taking his first bites of the roasted chicken matched with potatoes and greens. A simple meal, generally likable and comfortable for everyone. I sat across from Rhysand, an arrangement that would be easy for us both. I didn’t want to think about whether having us all finally get together was difficult for him. I didn’t know the extent of what he’d bore Under the Mountain, but no matter how long it took him - even if he never recovered - I knew we would all still be here with him, eating dinner together at this very table.

“It’s good to see you, Feyre,” Mor said to our High Lord’s mate who sat beside him dressed in a fine winter sweater, something I knew to be a favorite of hers from my time watching her over the wall. She’d chosen something comforting just as the rest of us had; Mor had dressed in one of her usual gowns, as if everywhere she went was awaiting her treasured arrival, something I found to be both arrogant and deserving. Amren wore some shade of grey, a typical choice for the beast within her. I’d always suspected it was the color of her true flesh that she was instinctively drawn to. Cassian and I had worn our typical battle leathers, the common clothes we both wore daily. It took quite a lot to defer us from them. And then Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, dressed surprisingly in his Court of Nightmares attire. My hope was that he was clinging to the strength of the flashy garb, not the mask behind it. 

“You have no idea,” Feyre laughed with a jostle, startling us all at her silliness, including herself it seemed. “I’m sorry,” she offered quietly as she settled down while all of us watched her. All of us but Rhysand, who chewed on some vegetables quietly. “I guess I’m just a little stir crazy from being, well, shut off for so long.”

I could nearly feel the whispers of power constantly spilling from the enchanted gem I knew now resided within her skin. I begged them to speak, sent out gentle waves of my shadows to entice, to tempt the stone to tell me all its secrets. But this magic did not speak my language. 

“Well, you didn’t miss much,” Cassian replied, nonchalant. I gauged the reactions around the table, searching for a single disagreement to his statement. The only reaction seemed to be the same empty sorrow that had haunted us all since the return of our High Lord and his mate. 

“Oh really?” Feyre asked, finishing a bite of chicken she’d swiftly sliced with much less force than I knew she’d once needed - back when she was mortal. I didn’t know what she’d become at this point, but her scent was now far from human. I sympathized with her. While I was fae, I was also something else and yet sometimes I was nothing at all. “Nothing exciting happened while I was sleeping?” 

“Well you did miss Mor having a little too much to drink more than once at Rita’s,” Cassian said with a wry smile. 

“Don’t even bother mentioning all the times  _ you _ drank so much I had to come walk your ass home,” I countered, knowing Cassian needed to be shot down from time to time to keep up his extreme level of spunk. 

“Oh, whatever, I was fine.”

Amren laid down her fork she was using to push her food around her plate, still unsure about showing Feyre her true colors. “If fine means singing so loudly to the dance music that I could hear you from my apartment, then sure, you were fine.”

We all laughed at that, especially Cassian, and we were all rewarded with a genuine smile from Rhys. 

He hadn’t been handling his return from Under the Mountain well.

But that was none of my business.

“I’m sorry,” Feyre said again, drawing my attention from my plate. Rhysand’s too, apparently as we were the only ones who ceased our eating to look at her this time. “I feel as though I know you each a bit already, and honestly, I’m not very good at having friends so I’m not quite sure how I should be acting right now,” she punctuated her confession with a large bite of potato, filling her lush cheeks. 

I’d noticed the difference in her when she’d come downstairs whilst Cassian and I had been guarding the two of them. Between the group we hadn’t been able to leave the presence of either our High Lord or his mate, refusing to leave them undefended in their current states. Nevermind that Rhysand was the most powerful High Lord in the history of Prythian. He was also our friend. 

And that was exactly why, while I had noticed Feyre’s differing appearance to the one I’d met her with, I said nothing. And I never would. 

Even Cassian was smart enough to keep those observations to himself. 

“You don’t have to be anything for us,” Mor replied softly. 

Cassian and I glanced her way simultaneously. 

“Thank you,” Feyre replied, her voice low. When I looked her way I thought I saw some other emotion beneath that reply - a reply she’d offered to Mor, but faced Rhys for. He met her gaze and their faces softened together.

I kept my opinion to myself.

A silence ensued as we all ate, our plates beginning to empty and I placed a nonsensical bet in my mind at whether Cassian or Mor would be the one to break it. 

Most likely Cassian.

“So what do you plan on doing now that you’re awake? You’ve gotta see Velaris. And then we could all go to Rita’s tonight, if we aren’t off on a mission of some sort, of course.”

Yep, it was Cassian.

“Well, actually, I guess I was hoping to jump into whatever you guys were up to, so exploring and going out for dinner sounds like fun.” Her voice gave the tiniest quiver and I wondered what about the idea of wandering the streets of the best kept secret on our continent and dinner at a restaurant would make her nervous. Then she gave a brief glance towards Rhys, who had yet to speak even when Amren had and I realized she must be worried for him too. 

Even though we were all well aware that they were mates, something about her suddenly entering our group, our family… I didn’t trust it just yet. But maybe if she was as in tuned with Rhysand as she seemed, knowing when his behavior was unusual, maybe I wasn’t giving the mating bond enough credit. Maybe I wasn’t giving her enough credit. 

So I decided to test her.

“We might be busy,” I said, cooly.

Cassian raised a blase, unbelieving eyebrow. “Oh?”

“King Hybern is trying to resurrect Jurian,” I said, laying it all out there, hoping I wasn’t chipping away at the long built trust between my High Lord and I. 

“Bullshit,” Cassian spat. “There’s no way to do that.”

Amren had gone still, and I observed each of her breaths like they’d tell me more than she ever would.

“Jurian?” Feyre asked.

“Do you remember Amarantha’s ring? The eye?” Rhysand asked her, avoiding looking at any of us in particular.

Feyre cringed when he said her name and we all pretended not to notice. She nodded.

“Jurian fought in the last war. Amarantha imprisoned his soul within that ring for killing her sister.”

Mor groaned, easing a bit of the tension from Rhysand’s voice. “Why would the king want to resurrect  _ Jurian _ ? He was so odious. All he liked to do was talk about himself.”

“That’s what I want to find out,” Rhysand said, his tone lightening into the leader’s voice we all knew well. “And how the king plans to do it.”

Amren at last said, “Word will have reached him about Feyre. He knows it’s possible for the dead to be spared, brought back to life.”

Feyre shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“That was under freak circumstances,” Mor countered. “There’s not a chance it could happen again. He’d have to take another route.” Her eyes narrowed to slits as she faced Rhys. “All the slaughtering - the massacres at temples. You think he’s tied to this?”

I could see the shock on Feyre’s face despite her attempts to hide it, but she, wisely, stayed quiet choosing to listen further.

“I know it’s tied to this. I didn’t want to tell you until I knew for certain. But Azriel confirmed that they’d raided the memorial in Sangravah three days ago. They’re looking for something - or found it.” I nodded, nevermind the devastation that was left behind in the small, holy city. But repairs had already began and I would check on their progress and offer aid within another few days. Mor shot me a look, but the only explanation I could serve her was a soft shrug.

Rhysand looked to Amren. “How does one take an eye and a finger bone and make it into a man again? And how do we stop it?”

Amren frowned at her untouched wine. “You already know how to find the answer. Go to the prison. Talk to the Bone Carver.”

“Shit,” Mor and Cassian both said.

Rhys said calmly, “Perhaps you would be more effective, Amren.”

Amren hissed, and Feyre shuddered. “I will not set foot in the Prison, Rhysand, and you know it. So go yourself, or send one of these dogs to do it for you.”

Cassian grinned, showing his white, straight teeth - perfect for biting. Amren snapped hers once in return.

I shook my head at their nonsense. “I’ll go. The Prison sentries know me - what I am.”

“No,” Feyre opposed, continuing to surprise me. It was unsettling. “I’ll go.”

“What?” Mor demanded, palms flat on the table. Rhysand stared intently into and beyond his meal before him.

But Amren nodded. “He won’t talk to Rhys or to Azriel. Or any of us. We’ve got nothing to offer him. But an immortal with a mortal soul…” She stared into Feyre’s heart - or what used to be her heart. “The Bone Carver might be willing to talk to her.”

“You think I’m immortal?” Feyre asked gently, and I cursed the hope in her voice. Eternity could be a long and cruel acquaintance. 

“The Bone Carver would know,” Amren offered.

“Your choice, Feyre,” Rhysand finally said, casually. But I could see the desperation in his eyes. He wanted her safe at home. I let myself glance towards Mor, someone who needed no one to protect her, and couldn’t help but understand.

“I want to help. And I want to learn more about this stone and whatever I am now.” She paused, weighing her next words carefully, a slow blush burnished the skin of her face a deep color, unnaturally so. “I want to know if I’ll be immortal or not.”

So they could spend both of their lifetimes together instead of the blip that would be her mortal life. I thought then of Rhysand, my friend. The boy I’d met before he became my High Lord as well. I thought of his pain and his heart. I thought of the day he’d lost his mother and sister… 

He deserved eternity with his mate.

“I’ll go with you,” he answered, before turning to make eye contact with each of us. “I have to apologize.”

Before he could continue Mor already piqued in, “No, Rhysand, you have nothing to apologize for. We don’t need to know anything. We just…” She looked around the room. “We just care about you. You can heal in whatever way you need to.”

We all noticed the way Feyre looked at him with knowing eyes. She knew what he’d faced, what he’d done throughout those years. She knew him Under the Mountain. We did not.

“I want to do this,” Rhys replied. “It might take me a while to admit to everything,” he murmured, as if he’d committed some great atrocity. I wished Amarantha was still alive. I wished I could find her and teach her what it felt like to hurt someone in our Inner Circle. To show her what we do to those that threaten our own. “I needed her to trust me,” he started after a slow breath. “I needed to play her game, to distract her…” His eyes moved to Feyre’s and they held each other’s gaze without shame. “I slept with her,” he finally spilled out the words and we were all deathly still. “I slept with her for forty nine years so she wouldn’t know about you - and about Velaris. She gave me my powers back slowly over time, giving me more and more freedom… The same freedom that led me to Feyre, who freed us all.”

He finished with his eyes still on his mate’s. 

Tears spilled from Feyre’s fast blinks and it was all I could do to keep from lashing out some piece of my power in some way. The rage that consumed me, the brokenness… The loneliness that I knew well. It had been a master of mine for most of my life, even when I’d opened myself to Cassian and Rhysand as friends and brothers. Yet here I was, still hundreds of years laters, still allowing that loneliness to rule me when my High Lord had it forced upon him. 

It was forced upon him for forty nine years.

Amren was still as death while I watched Cassian continuously tense and relax his jaw over and over, dealing with the waves of rage and emotion I felt similarly in myself. 

Mor was shaking. 

“You are your own master,” Feyre said, her voice stronger, more determined, like I’d heard it when she’d told me she knew who I was - when she’d told me I was taking her to her mate, taking her to save her mate. She’d known then. She’d already known what he was going through Under the Mountain. A new respect pooled within me and I knew this female might very well earn my undying trust apart from what I gave her for her mate. “This does not change that,” she finished, and though we all knew we were missing some piece of this conversation between them, we cherished taking part in it.

This is what a mating bond looked like. 

Rhysand lifted a hand to cup Feyre’s face in his palm, the tender moment exposed for us all to witness. “Feyre,” he whispered. “You saved me.”

My skin prickled watching the vulnerability between them. 

My High Lord spoke again, “We leave for the Prison tomorrow. Today we tour Velaris,” he looked around the table to us all, “together.” I tried not to notice the amount of misty eyes in the room. “And tonight…” he dropped off with a genuine smile, that pulled at some lost part of me.

“Rita’s!” Cassian declared, rubbing away the single tear that had escaped down his tanned cheek. 


	22. Chapter 22

**Feyre**

 

Hands - there were hands on my shoulders, shaking em, squeezing me, I thrashed against them screaming, screaming - 

“ _ FEYRE.” _

The voice was at once the night and the dawn and the stars and the earth, and every inch of my body calmed at the primal dominance in it. 

“Open your eyes,” the voice ordered.

I did.

My throat was raw, my mouth full of ash, my face soaked and sticky, and Rhysand - Rhysand was hovering above me, eyes wide.

“It was a dream,” he said, his breathing as hard as mine.

The moonlight trickling through the windows illuminated the dark lines of swirling tattoos down his arm, his shoulders, across his sculpted chest. Like the identical ones we bore on our arms from Under the Mountain. He scanned my face. “A dream,” he said again.

Velaris. I was in Velaris, at his house. And I had a nightmare.

The sheets, the blankets were ripped. Shredded. But not with a knife. And that ashy, smoky taste coating my mouth… 

My hand was unnervingly steady as I lifted it to find my fingers ending in simmering embers. Living claws of black flame that had sliced through my bed linens like they were causterixing woulds - 

I shoved him off with a hard shoulder, falling out of bed and slamming into a small chest before I hurtled into the bathing room, fell to my knees before the toilet, and was sick to my stomach. Again. Again. My fingertips hissed against the cool porcelain.

Large, warm hands pulled my hair back a moment later.

“Breathe,” Rhys said. “Imagine them winking out like candles, one by one.”

I heaved into the toilet again, the swell of the tainted magic roaring within me. With a focus brought about almost entirely by desperation I focused on stoking each flame, one by one. Sure enough, the sickeningly sweet heat ceased across my hand until it was mine again.

And when I dared look at my hands, still braced on the bowl, the embers had been extinguished. Even that dark power that laced my veins, along with my bones, slumbered once more.

“I have this dream,” Rhys said as I turned to look at him, wiping my sleeve across my lips. “Where it’s not me stuck under her, but Cassian or Azriel. And she’s pinned their wings to the bed with spiked, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. She’d commanded me to watch, and I have no choice but to see how I failed them.”

I clung to the toilet, considering another round of retching. “You never failed them,” I rasped.

“I did… horrible things to ensure that.” Those violet eyes near-glowed in the dim light.

“Why hadn’t you told them anything about the mountain until tonight?” I dared ask, hoping it wasn’t crossing any boundaries in our strange, sometimes backwards relationship.

He dropped his eyes and released my hair in slowly waves to cascade down my back once more. “At first I didn’t want to burden them with it,” he started, reaching his tattooed hand for mine. I watched as he tentatively swirled a finger through the patterns he’d made in my skin. “The more time passed and you didn’t wake up… I think I was scared.”

My brow furrowed with concern. “You know they would never have judged you for anything you’d done, whether it was for them or not,” I pressed.

But he shook his head. “It’s not that I was afraid of their judgement. I’m aware of their love for me. My Inner Circle is a Court of Dreams,” he said with a soft smile. “I didn’t want to feed them my nightmares, potentially give them their own. I have seen what it’s like to care deeply for someone and to hear of the pain they’ve suffered only to be unable to act against that force. They’d want vengeance and I wasn’t sure I was willing to give them that temptation on the brink of war.”

I sucked in a breath. “But,” I started, suddenly regretting my words.

“But?” he asked, bringing his eyes back to mine.

“But you shouldn’t have to ever be alone. Not again. You have them to support you. They want to carry your burdens with you. That’s what lifelong friends are for.”

His violet gaze searched my own. I thought back to sitting at the table with all of his friends, while he gave me this same look. An obvious look, one with all his feelings laid bare on his face. A look he’d given to me in front of all his friends, perfectly okay with them seeing it. 

“I realized that at some point,” he said slowly. “I think I realized it when you were laughing with them. You giggled talking to Mor and I could have fallen out of my chair,” he laughed and I let a small smile slip across my lips. “You jumped right in with them and they caught you - accepted you. And at some point sitting at that table I realized I was with my family and I just… I looked at you and I felt like I could open up that part of myself I’d locked away while I was Under the Mountain again.”

It was my turn, I decided, to reach for his face. I slid my fingers across his jaw then around his neck. His eyes closed at my touch and I was suddenly thinking about that night Under the Mountain - the night I had dressed in strips of fabric and danced for him. I’d sat on his lap and felt his lips against my neck, teasing me, filling me with boundless, insatiable warmth.

And I wanted to feel that warmth again.

Rhys opened his eyes only to widen them at the sight of me. A slow, feral smile pulled across his face. “Something you want, Feyre, darling?”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please.”

“Now, you can’t go giving me a sex face and then brush me off,” he purred and I stuck my tongue out at him.

“Is that what you want?” he taunted me. “Would you rather give or receive? I can be ready whenever you are.”

My laugh spewed from my lips. “You’re awful!”

“And yet you’re still looking at me with those eyes,” he said, and despite myself, I tightened my grip on his neck.

“Whatever,” I whispered and leaned in, crashing my lips into his. He received me gently, balancing my tenacity with sweet comfort. The taste of him was a mesmerizing as I’d expected it to be. I rocked into him, rising up a little on my knees next to where he sat at my side. His hands found my sides, pulling me toward him until I was piled onto his lap. 

Then I remembered.

“Oh no!” I gasped.

“Wh- what?” he stuttered, immediately looking around for danger.

“I haven’t cleaned my teeth. I was just puking, Rhysand!”

It started as a quick burst of air through his nose, but it built into a heavy laugh from deep in his belly. “Do you really think I care about that right now, Feyre?” 

Then he was picking me up, giving me kisses as I rolled my eyes between my own short laughs. I held my arms around his neck as he led us back to our bed adorned with all new sheets and blankets, where we shared quick, tender kisses until I fell back asleep in a wave of exhaustion. 

  
  


_____________________

  
  


I stared up that the sharp grassy slope of the small mountain, shivering at the veils of mist that wafted past. Behind us, the land swept away to brutal cliffs and a violent pewter sea. Ahead, nothing but a wide, flat-topped mountain of gray stone and moss.

Rhys stood at my side, a double-edged sword sheathed down his spine, knives strapped to his legs, clothed in those same Illyrian fighting leathers he, Cassian, and Azriel wore. The dark pants were tight, the scale-like plates of leather worn and scarred and sculpted to legs I hadn’t noticed were quite that muscled. His close fitting jacket had been built around the wings that were now fully out, bits of dark, scratched armor added at the shoulders and forearms.

If his attire hadn’t told me enough about what we might be facing today - if my  _ own,  _ similar attire hadn’t told me enough - all I needed was to take one look at the rock before us and know it wouldn’t be pleasant. I’d been so distracted in the study an hour ago by what Rhys had been writing as he drafted a careful request to visit the Summer Court that I hadn’t thought to ask what to expect  _ here _ . When I asked Rhys about why he wanted to visit the Summer Court he’d merely smirked and said “improving diplomatic relations.”

“Where are we?” I said, our first words since winnowing in a moment ago. Velaris had been brisk, sunny. This place, wherever it was, was freezing, deserted, barren. Only rock and grass and mist and sea.

“On an island in the heart of the Western Isles,” Rhysand said, staring up at the mammoth mountain. “And that,” he said, pointing to it, “is the prison.”

There was nothing - no one around.

“I don’t see anything.”

“The rock is the Prison. And inside it are the foulest, most dangerous creatures and criminals you can imagine.”

I caught myself watching his lips, remembering the feel of them on mine last night.

I gave myself a slow blink to snap out of it. That was the last thing I should be thinking about right now.

“This place,” he continued and I wondered if he knew my thoughts, “was made before High Lords existed. Before Prythian. Some of the inmates remember those days. Remember a time when it was Mor’s family, not mine, that ruled the North.”

“Why won’t Amren go in here?” I asked.

“Because she was once a prisoner.”

“Not in that body, I take it.”

A cruel smile. “No. Not at all.”

I shivered. 

“The hike will get your blood warming,” Rhys said. “Since we can’t winnow inside or fly to the entrance - the wards demand that visitors walk in. The long way.”

We hiked the slope of the Prison in silence. At times it was so steep we had to crawl on our hands and knees. Higher and higher we climbed, and I drank from the countless little streams that gurgled through the bumps and hollows in the moss-and-grass slopes. All around the mist drifted by, whipped by the wind, whose hollow moaning drowned out our crunching footsteps.

I caught Rhys looking at me with a slight frown for the tenth time throughout our climb.

“What?” I asked.

He looked ahead. “I have to remind myself that we got out.”

Of the mountain. One similar to the one we were now walking into willingly.

“Rhys…”

“Don’t say anything you don’t want others hearing.” He pointed to the stone beneath us. “The inmates have nothing better to do than to listen through the earth and rock for gossip. They’ll sell any bit of information for food, sex, maybe a breath of fresh air.”

He held out a hand to help me climb a particularly steep rock, easily hauling me up to where he perched at its top. It had been so long - too long - since I’d been outside, using my body, relying on it. My breathing was ragged, even with the power of the stone beginning its thrumming in my chest the nearer we got to our destination. My thoughts drifted to his hand he’d let linger tangled with mine and I was again lost, remembering the feel of his fingers on the skin of my back as we laid in bed last night.

I had to get a grip.

I decided to blame it on the mating bond. It was instinctual, calling me to him. 

Not my own weakness in his presence.

When I cut him a glance, he was watching me. My face fell. He had been listening to all my thoughts. I scoffed, offering him a not so subtle gesture and he winked at me in return.

I was too winded to scowl. We climbed until the upper face of the mountain became a wall before us, nothing but grassy slopes sweeping behind, far below, to where they flowed to the restless fray sea. Rhys drew the sword from his back in a swift movement.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he said.

“I’ve… never seen you with a weapon.”

“Cassian would laugh himself hoarse hearing that. And then make me go into the sparring ring with him.”

“Can he beat you?”

“Hand-to-hand combat? Yes. He’d have to earn it for a change, but he’d win.” No arrogance, no pride. “Cassian is the best warrior I’ve encountered in any court, any land. He leads my armies because of it.”

I didn’t doubt his claim. I asked next of Azriel, curious what the story was on his scarred hands I’d seen first at the table yesterday morning then all throughout our day together as a group. That and the way he defended Mor were my main observations of the shadow singer. 

The story of Azriel’s childhood left me nauseous. 

“And Mor,” I asked, “what does she do for you?”

“Mor is who I’ll call when the armies fail and Cassian and Azriel are both dead.”

My blood chilled. “So she’s supposed to wait until then?”

“No. As my Third, Mor is my… court overseer. She looks after the dynamics between the Court of Nightmares and the Court of Dreams, and runs both Velaris and the Hewn City. I suppose in the mortal realm, she might be considered a queen.”

“And Amren?”

“Her duties as my Second make her my political adviser, walking library, and doer of my dirty work. I appointed her upon gaining my throne. But she was my ally, maybe my friend, long before that.”

“I mean - in that war where your armies fail and Cassian and Azriel are dead, and even Mor is gone.” Each word was like ice on my tongue.

Rhys paused his reach for the bald rock face before us. “If that day comes, I’ll find a way to break the spell on Amren and unleash her on the world. And ask her to end me first.”

By the Mother. “What  _ is  _ she?” 

“Something else,” he said and I thought of myself. I was now something else as well. I remembered the quiet sadness on Amren’s face when I’d awoken to her, my body breaking through its rough recovery. Maybe she’d seen that in me and found the potential for an ally of  _ others.  _ I would be okay with that. 

We were staring up at the sheer stone wall. “I can’t climb bare rock like that.”

“You don’t need to,” Rhys said, laying a hand flat on the stone. Like a mirage, it vanished in a ripple of light. 

Pale, carved gates stood in its place, so high their tops were lost to the mist.

Gates of bone.

They swung open silently, revealing a cavern of black so inky I had never seen its like, even in my time Under the Mountain. 

The Amulet of Storms heated in my chest, its low buzzing thrum keeping me on my toes, awaiting whatever it was preparing me for with its hums. 

Rhys put a warm hand on my back and guided me inside, three balls of moonlight bobbing before us. 

“Where are the guards?” I asked, trying to count my breaths to keep them slow - to keep my stone heart from acting up.

“They dwell within the rock of the mountain,” he murmured, his hand finding mine and wrapping around it as he tugged me into the immortal gloom. “They only emerge at feeding time, or to deal with the restless prisoners. They are nothing but shadows of thought and an ancient spell.”

With the small lights floating ahead, I tried not to look too long at the gray walls. Especially when they were so rough-hewn that the jagged bits could have been a nose, or a craggy brow, or a set of sneering lips. 

The dry ground was clear of anything but pebbles. And there was silence. Utter silence as we rounded a bend, and the last of the light from the misty world faded into inky black. 

I focused on my breathing. The amulet seemed to always act up when I was emotional, angry or frightened. I needed a sound mind. I clung to the feeling of Rhysand’s hand around mine, holding me to this world, to everything real and external. 

The path plunged deep into the belly of the mountain, and I clutched Rhys’s fingers to keep from losing my footing. He still had his sword gripped in his other hand.

“Do all High Lords have access?” My words were so soft they were devoured by the dark. 

“No. The Prison is law unto itself; the island may be even an eighth court. But it falls under my jurisdiction, and my blood is keyed to the gates.”

“Could you free the inmates?”

“No. Once the sentence is given and a prisoner passes those gates… They belong to the Prison. It will never let them out. I take sentencing people here very, very seriously.”

“Have you ever…”

“Yes. And now is not the time to speak of it.” He squeezed my hand in emphasis.

We wound down through the gloom.

There were no doors. No lights.

No sounds. Not even a trickle of water. 

But I could feel them. 

I could feel them sleeping, pacing, running hands and claws over the other side of the walls. 

They were ancient, and cruel in a way I had never known, not even with Amarantha. They were infinite, and patient, and had learned the language of darkness, of stone. 

Rhysand’s hand tightened again on my own. “Just a bit farther.”

“We must be near the bottom by now.”

“Past it. The Bone Carver is caged beneath the roots of the mountain.”

“Who is he? What is he?” I’d only been briefed in what I was to say - nothing of what to expect. No doubt to keep me from panicking too thoroughly. 

“No one knows. He’ll appear as he wants to appear.”

“Shape-shifter?”

“Yes and no. He’ll appear to you as one thing, and I might be standing right beside you and see another.”

I tried not to start bleating like cattle. “And the bone carving?”

“You’ll see.” Rhys stopped before a smooth slab of stone. The hall continued down - down in the ageless dark. The air here was tight, compact. Even my puffs of breath on the chill air seemed short-lived.

Rhysand at last released my hand, only to lay his once more on the bare stone. It rippled beneath his palm, forming - a door. 

Like the gates above, it was of ivory - bone. And it its surface were etched countless images: flora and fauna, seas and clouds, stars and moons, infants and skeletons, creatures fair and foul… 

It swung away. The cell was pitch-black, hardly distinguishable from the hall - 

“I have carved the doors for every prisoner in this place,” said a small voice within, “but my own remains my favorite.”

“I’d have to agree,” Rhysand said. He stepped inside, the light bobbing ahead to illuminate a dark-haired boy sitting against the far wall, eyes of crushing blue taking in Rhysand, then sliding to where I lurked in the doorway. 

Rhys reached into a bag I hadn’t realised he’d been carrying - no, one he’d summoned from whatever pocket between realms he used for storage. He chucked an object toward the boy, who looked no more than eight. White gleamed as it clacked on the rough stone floor. Another cone, long and sturdy - and jagged on one end.

“The calf-bone that made me the final kill when Feyre slew the Middengard Wyrm,” Rhys said. 

My very blood stilled. There had been many bones that I’d laid in my trap - I hadn’t noticed which had ended the Wyrm. Or thought anyone would. 

“Come inside,” was all the Bone Carver said, and there was no innocence, no kindness in that child’s voice.

I took one step in and no more. 

“It has been an age,” the boy said, gobbling down the sight of me, “since something new came into this world.”

“Hello,” I breathed.

The boy’s smile was a mockery of innocence. “Are you frightened?”

A flare of the amulet’s blackness flew through my chest. “Yes,” I said.  _ Never lie  _ \- that had been Rhys’s first command. 

The boy stood, but kept to the other side of the cell. “Feyre,” he murmured, cocking his head. The orb of faelight glazed the inky hair in the silber. “Fay-ruh,” he said again, drawing out the syllables as if he could taste them. At last, he straightened his head. “Where did you go when you died?”

“A question for a question,” I replied, as I’d been instructed over breakfast. 

The Bone Carver inclined his head to Rhysand. “You were always smarter than your forefathers.” But those eyes alighted on me. “Tell me where you went, what you saw - and I will answer your question.”

Rhys gave me a subtle nod, but his eyes were wary. Because what the boy had asked… 

I had to calm my breathing, to think, and to keep the stone in my chest at bay. Could the Bone Carver feel it? Could he feel the evil magic pumping my blood for my cold, dead heart?

“I heard the crack,” I said. Rhys’s head whipped toward me. “I heard the crack when she broke my neck. It was in my ears, but also inside my skull. I felt no pain.”

The Bone Carver’s violet eyes seemed to glow brighter.

“My body left me, but I didn’t leave it. I watched my…” I mentally cursed the slip of my tongue. “I watched Rhysand fighting her. I watched the terror of what was happening spread through the room. I felt helpless, but I didn’t know I was dead until he,” I pointed to Rhysand, “looked at me. I didn’t know I was dead until I saw it in his eyes. Then I saw the blood that poured from my ears, my mouth, my nose…” 

“But was there anyone there - were you seeing anything beyond?”

“There was only Rhysand - Rhysand and my blood and helplessness.”

Rhysand’s face had gone pale, his mouth a tight line. “And when I saw what she was doing to him, when I saw his blood drip from his face for the first time… I - I stood. I was dead inside my own body. I fixed myself, and yet, I sometimes still feel dead.”

“Were you afraid?”

“There wasn’t room for fear - only numbness, helplessness… And the need to return to those who needed me. The worst had happened, but in that darkness was only calm and quiet.”

“There was no other world,” the Bone Carver pushed.

“If there was, or is, I did not see it.”

“No light, no portal?”

_ Where is it that you want to go?  _ The question almost leaped off my tongue. “Only silence and helplessness.”

“Did you have a body?”

“No.”

“Did…”

“That’s enough from you,” Rhysand purred - the sound like velvet over the sharpest steel. “You said a question for a question. Now you’ve asked…” He did a tally on his fingers. “Six.”

The Bone Carver leaned back against the wall and slid to a sitting position. “It is a rare day when I meet someone who comes back from true death. Forgive me for wanting to peer behind the curtain.” He waved a delicate hand in my direction. “Ask it, girl.”

“If there was no body - nothing but perhaps a bit of bone,” I said as solidly as I could, “Would there be a way to resurrect that person? To grow them a new body, put their soul into it?”

Those eyes flashed. “Was the soul somehow preserved? Contained?”

I tried not to think about the eye ring Amarantha had worn, the soul she’d trapped inside to witness her every horror and depravity. “Yes.”

“There is no way.”

I almost sighed in relief.

“Unless…” The boy bounced each finger off his thumb, his hand like some pale, twitchy insect. “Long ago, before the High Fae, before man, there was a Cauldron… They say all the magic was contained inside it, that the world was born in it. But it fell into the wrong hands. And great and horrible things were done with it. Things were  _ forged  _ with it. Such wicked things that Cauldron was eventually stolen back at great cost,” he said, those eyes peering deep into my face, slowly sliding south to my chest. “It could not be destroyed, for it had Made all things, and if it were broken, then life itself would cease to be. So it was hidden. And forgotten. Only with that Cauldron could something that is dead be reforged.”

Rhysand’s face was a mask of calm while the Bone Carver continued to stare at me. “Where did they hide it?”

“Tell me a secret no one knows, Lord of Night, and I’ll tell you mine.”

I braced myself for whatever horrible truth was about to come my way. But Rhysand said, “My right knee gets a twinge of pain when it rains. I wrecked it during the War, and its hurt ever since.”

The Bone Carver bit out a harsh laugh, even as I gaped at Rhys. “You always were my favorite,” he said, giving a smile I would never for a moment think was childlike. “It was once hidden away in a lake, but has since vanished. I don’t know where it went to or where it is now. Its feet had once been separated from it to reel in its power, but those have been taken recently, so I suspect it is active once more - and that the wielder wants it at full power and not a wisp of it missing.” His eyes reconnected with mine, a sinister smile gripping his thin lips. 

Rhys merely said, “I don’t suppose you know  _ who  _ now has the Cauldron?”

The Bone Carver pointed a small finger at me. “Promise that you’ll give me her bones when she dies and I’ll think about it.” I stiffened, but the boy laughed. “No - I dont think even you would promise that, Rhysand.”

I might have called the look on Rhysand’s face a warning, but if our roles were reversed and he’d just asked me for my mate’s bones… It was much more than a warning.

“Thank you for your help,” Rhys said, placing a hand on my back to guide me out.

But if he knew… I turned again to the boy-creature. “I had no choice - in my death,” I said. 

Those eyes guttered with cobalt fire.

Rhys’s hand contracted on my back, but remained. Warm, steady. And I wondered if the touch was more to reassure him that I was there, still breathing.

“I knew,” I went on, “that I was dead. I also knew only helpless emptiness. I knew I was  _ supposed  _ to be dead, but that something dark had kept me in my body, watching my death affect those around me. I knew that if I waited for a bright light - for the darkness to take me away, that it would not come. I knew I was trapped in my life - even in death. I may have died, but my life, my consciousness, never left me. I was a captured witness to my own death and resurrection.”

For a moment, those blue eyes flared brighter. Then the boy said, “You know who has the Cauldron, Rhysand. Who has been pillaging the temples. You only came here to confirm what you have long guessed.”

“The King of Hybern.”

Dread sluiced through my veins and pooled in my stomach. I shouldn’t have been surprised, should have known but… 

The carver said nothing more, waiting for another truth.

So I offered up another piece of me. “If I’d have died then, challenging Amarantha that day for what she’d done, I’d still do it all over again. And even if this stone that seeps evil into my blood is a worse fate than death, I would fight her all over again.”

I dared a glance at Rhys, and there was something like devastation on his beautiful face.

But the Bone Carver grinned. “Interesting that you’d rather ask questions about the Cauldron than the gem within your ribs. It feeds off your bones. I can almost taste its presence.”

Rhysand nearly growled.

“Very well. With the Cauldron, you could do other things than raise the dead. You could shatter the wall.”

The only thing keeping the human lands - my family - safe from not just Hybern, but any other faeries.

“It is likely that Hybern used Amarantha as a distraction while he found the Cauldron and learned its secrets. And your resurrection of a specific individual might very well have been his first test once the feet were reunited - and now he finds that the Cauldron is pure energy, pure power,” he accentuated slowly, drinking in the sight of me, staring boldly at the amulet as if he could surely see it beneath my clothing. “And like any magic, it can be depleted. So he will let it rest, let it gather strength - learn its secrets to feed it more energy, more power.”

“Is there a way to stop it,” I breathed.

Silence. Expectant, waiting silence.

Rhys’s voice was hoarse as he said, “Don’t offer him one more -”

“There is a book - The Book of Breathings. In it, written between the carved words, are the spells to negate the Cauldron’s power - or control ot wholly. It’s been split into two pieces, one for the mortals and one for the fae. No creature born of the earth may wield it. The Book was made to be harmless, because like calls to like - and only that which was Made can speak those spells and summon its power.” He went on, about where each half was and how it would negate the Cauldron’s power and how each piece was tied magically to its keeper. I was lost. Lost in the swirling vortex of power in my chest fully awakened now in the presence of the Bone Carver - at his words of only that which is Made being able to control the Caudron. Only me.

“You, however, may not even need the Book to control the Cauldron.”

I froze, still as death.

The boy’s nostrils flared above his cat-like smile. “Like calls to like.”

But it was Rhysand who replied, “What do you mean?”

“Can you feel the stone inside your chest?”

“Yes,” I breathed.

“Does it whisper to you?”

“No.”

“Eno-” Rhysand tried.

“It calls to me, though. It pulls me, just as it pulled me up to my feet. It pulled me to snap my head back into place.”

“How does it take form?”

I took a soft gulp. “Mist and flame, mostly.”

“Mist,” he asked, “or steam?”

I nearly stepped back, but Rhysand held me steady, his palm still at my back. “Steam.”

The Bone Carver loosed an easy smile.

“Your turn, Feyre,” he said.

I didn’t dare look at Rhysand before I asked, “Is it evil? Will it… will it make me evil?”

“It is neither good nor evil. It is simply power.”

“How - how long will it keep me alive?”

Those eyes burned into my own, before looking to Rhysand beside me. “You will live forever, Feyre, even when everyone and everything you love has died, you will live on. There is nothing that can kill you now.”

Rhys’s grip tightened almost painfully at my back before he turned me away. Neither of us bothered to say thank you. And as we headed back through the winding mountain his hand slid from my back and gripped my hand once more, a feeling I knew I could get used to. 

This touch was light - gentle.

The carver picked up the bone Rhysand had brought him and weighed it in those child’s hands. “I shall carve your death in here, Feyre.”

Up and up into the darkness we walked, through the sleeping stone and monsters who dwelled within it. At last I said to Rhys, “What did you see?”

“You first.”

“A boy - around eight; dark haired and blue-eyed.”

Rhys shuddered - the most human gesture I’d ever seen him make.

“What did you see?” I pushed.

“Jurian,” Rhys said. “He appeared exactly as Jurian looked the last time I saw him: facing Amarantha when they fought to the death.”

I didn’t want to know how to Bone Carver knew who we’d come to ask about.


	23. Chapter 23

**Azriel**

  
  


“Amren’s right,” Rhys drawled, leaning against the threshold of the town house sitting room. “You  _ are  _ like dogs, waiting for me to come home. Maybe I should buy you treats.”

I repressed my eye roll while Cassian gave him a vulgar gesture from where he lounged on the couch before the hearth, an arm slung over the back behind Mor. I could see his unease clearly from where I stood near the window. Despite his general appearance of calm, I could see the tightness in his jaw, a coiled up energy he often felt anytime he had to wait on the sidelines. 

The High Lord of the Night Court and his mate were both wet, the latter shivering a bit as she strode across the room to plop into an armchair across from the couch, which had been shaped, like so much of the furniture here, to fit our Illyrian wings. She stretched, leaning toward the fire and I ignored the near silent groan of pleasure she felt from the warmth.

“How’d it go?” Mor said, straightening beside Cassian. No gown today - just practical black pants and her favorite thick, blue sweater. A sweater I’d once given her many, many years ago. 

“The Bone Carver is a busy-body gossip who likes to pry into other people’s business far too much.”

“But?” Cassian demanded, bracing his arms on his knees, wings tucked in tight.

“But,” Rhys said, “he can also be helpful, when he chooses. And it seems we need to start doing what we do best.”

I watched as Feyre tuned out Rhys’s explanation to us, sliding deep into an inner world, escaping whatever must have happened to them while visiting the Bone Carver. He’d never liked me much, but I wasn’t much of a talker.

Rhys went on about the Cauldron and The Book of Breathings, some of which I’d already determined and knew that Rhys had known as well, however the confirmation of the Bone Carver was an important one, as the extremity of our next steps would be dangerous and potentially seen as hostile. And try as I might, my attention was continuously drawn back to my High Lord’s mate, to the point that Rhys began to notice. Sometimes I considered retracting our deal that he would never use his power to communicate with me mentally, especially lately. 

Cassian asked most of the questions, Mor pitching in her two cents every now and then and I could admit I had a few questions of my own.

“Did he say anything about the stone?” Cassian finally asked, taking the thought right out of my head, though I hadn’t had the gall to ask, especially in front of his mate.

Rhysand didn’t reply, looking to where Feyre sat staring at the fire her hair already starting to dry in weak waves down her shoulders. 

So I stepped away from the window. “I’ll contact my sources in the Summer Court about where the half of the Book of Breathings is hidden,” I offered. “I can fly into the human world myself to figure out where they’re keeping their part of the Book before we ask them for it.”

“No need,” Rhys said, his attention brought back to me. “And I don’t trust this information, even with your sources, with anyone outside of this room. Save for Amren.”

“They can be trusted,” I insisted, my hands clenched at my sides. I knew we would be able to take care of this for him. It was the least we could do with all that was on his plate right now.

“We’re not taking risks where this is concerned,” Rhys merely said. He held my eyes and I felt his unspoken thoughts as if he almost  _ was  _ using his powers to communicate them to me.  _ It is no judgment or reflection on you, Az. Not at all.  _

I met his eye contact before giving a swift nod, breaking away to see Cassian watching me as well.

I silently thanked the Cauldron for my true brothers.

“So what  _ do  _ you have planned?” Mor cut in.

Rhys picked an invisible piece of dirt off his fighting leathers. When he lifted his head, his eyes were piercing, glacial. “The King of Hybern sacked one of out temples to get a missing piece of the Cauldron. As far as I’m concerned, it’s an act of war - an indication that His Majesty has no interest in wooing me.”

“He likely remembers our allegiance to the humans in the War, anyway,” Cassian said. “He wouldn’t jeopardize revealing his plans while trying to sway you, and I bet some of Amarantha’s cronies reported to him about Under the Mountain. About how it all ended, I mean.”

We all ignored Rhys’s near imperceptible wince at her name. 

Yes, Hybern most likely knew of Amarantha’s death. He would know that Rhys had tried to kill her. That we all were there, we all had fought against her when no one else would. And now we called her true murderer one of our own. 

An alliance was more than impossible.

Rhys said, “Indeed. But this means Hybern’s forces have already successfully infiltrated our lands - without detection.” I steeled my grip at that and knew Cassian was holding in the rage I felt as well. “I plan to return the favor.”

I could have grinned for days.

I didn’t, of course, but Cassian and Mor both savored the feral delight of revenge against one of our greatest enemies. “How?” Mor asked.

Rhys crossed his arms. “It will require careful planning. But if the Cauldron is in Hybern, then to Hybern we must go. Either to take it back, or to nullify it.”

I braced myself, mentally preparing my strategy for staking it out long before the others would ever set flight near that land. “Hybern likely has as many wards and shields around it as we have here,” I told them. “We’d need to find a way to get through them undetected.”

Rhys gave a slight nod. “Which is why we start now. While we hunt for the Book. SO when we get both halves, we can move swiftly - before word can spread that we even possess it.”

Cassian nodded, but asked, “How are you going to retrieve the Book, then?”

Rhys gave away no sense of hesitancy for his mate’s sake when he said, “These objects are spelled to their individual keepers, and while they can only be found by them the Bone Carver hinted at the idea that the…” finally, he fumbled, “the stone was an object like the Book.  _ Like calls to like _ , he said. The stone should be able to find its brothers.”

Everyone looked at Feyre, but I kept my eyes on Rhys. The idea of Feyre’s life being entirely in the hands of something comparable to such evil as the Book of Breathings was not something I found easy for Rhys to have shared, or have heard from the carver. I wondered what other information they found out about that stone from him under that Prison.

“ _ Perhaps… _ ” she said in response, but Rhys gave her a sideways smile and she rolled her eyes. We took that as an agreement. 

“Is there no way for us to test it?” I asked, taking another small step into the room from my vigil by the window.

“Do you know of any other object like the Book? Like the Cauldron itself we could search for while we wait for the Summer Court’s reply?” Rhys countered. 

Indeed, I did not.

“We’ll have to make due,” Rhys continued. “But I’ll check with Amren when I see her in case she knows of anything.”

We twiddled our thumbs in response, all frustrated at the lack of ideas. I was starting to feel like our meeting was over and the others would start making to leave when Rhys spoke up once more, “I had another matter I wanted to discuss briefly.”

We stared at him, Mor looked bored with his open ended statement.

“I would like to appoint Feyre as our Emissary to the Night Court for the human realm.”

Immediately I interjected, “There hasn’t been one in five hundred years.”

“There also hasn’t been anyone like Feyre since then, either.” Rhys turned his gaze to his mate, who was already looking at him like he’d lost his mind. “The human world must be as prepared as we are - especially if the King of Hybern plans to shatter the wall and unleash his forces upon them. We need the other half of the Book from those mortal queens - and if we can’t use magic to influence them, then they’re going to have to bring it to us.”

More silence. On the street beyond the bay of windows wisps of snow brushed past, dusting the cobblestones.

He was trying to help Feyre - to help her family.

I hadn’t wanted to bring this up in front of the others. I’d hoped to confront Rhys privately, but this conversation was getting out of my hands and Mor knew it. She made brutal eye contact with me, pleading for me to say something.

“Rhys,” was all I said. His head snapped to mine, the eyes of Cassian and Feyre following. I felt the heat of Feyre’s stare more than the others. She shifted in her seat, angling herself away from the fire now to look at me entirely. Rhysand slipped his hands in his pockets, waiting. “We received a letter from another court while you were gone.”

Rhys was immediately responding, “The Summer Court couldn’t have accepted my offer so soon.”

“You’re right,” I said, moving my weight from one leg to the other. “It wasn’t from the Summer Court.” Each word fell from my tongue like lead as I felt the weight of Feyre’s eyes on me.

“C’mon, man, who was it?” Cassian blurted out as he began to fidget with nervous energy.

“The Spring Court.”

Everyone was still as death. No one even dared take a breath.

“Lucien has become High Lord of the Spring Court,” I said, a fact Rhys and I hadn’t discussed. The Spring Court had always been a hard spot for us all, Rhys more than anyone, but it had been an entirely avoided topic since his return from Under the Mountain. I wasn’t sure I could utter the name of the male who’d done what he’d done to my High Lord’s mate myself. “He’s sent word that Feyre’s sisters ventured over the wall to find her, only for Lucien to find them first. They’re currently staying with him there, where he says he’s sheltering them for now. The letter is an invitation for you and Feyre to visit, so she can see her sisters.”

“A peace offering?” Mor asked.

Cassian sat up straight. “Or a trap?”

Rhys was frozen in place, his eyes trained on Feyre who looked somewhere between this world and the next. I could feel the stone’s power palpating in her skin and I wondered if the others could feel it too, or if, once again, this was a gift solely mine to bear. “I can scout out the grounds, even accompany you should you choose to go. Even if I don’t, I suggest at least one other go with you…” I trailed off, expecting one of them to have said something by now.

But they didn’t say a word, not for a long while. We all sat in their silence, letting them process and I idly wondered if they were having a telepathic conversation about it, leading me to wonder if they needed Rhys’s powers for that or if the mating bond provided the means on its own.

Finally Feyre said, “How soon can we leave?”

Rhys took a dragging breath and drawled out, “Tomorrow.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Rhysand**

 

The Spring Court hadn’t changed much since I’d last visited - when I’d retrieved Tamlin along with many others of Amarantha’s pets. The air was crisp and endless, the garden of roses and vines infinite and strangling. I could understand the idea that it was meant to be lovely, beautiful even. But nothing about the Spring Court would ever be lovely to me again.

Not after what the High Lord of the Spring Court had done to my mate.

She was the first to move when I’d landed my winnow outside the manor. Cassian shot me a wary glance from the other side of Feyre, obviously uneasy about the tension that had been raised in mine and Feyre’s silence. Neither of us have told any of the others of that day so long ago, yet I knew we both remembered it well. Too well. 

Shadows were rippling into existence around me as Cassian averted his gaze, following behind my mate, giving me time to settle myself.

Even after his death, I would never feel settled with Tamlin.

When I caught up to them, they’d stopped before the doors and I realized Feyre was hesitating. Before I could send a wisp of a thought down the bond I heard her clear as if she’d spoken out loud.  _ Do you think they’re really in there? _

As I searched out their thoughts to find out the truth I asked her,  _ Do you think this could be a trap? _

_ I don’t know what to think anymore. _

I let my power seek the manor, brushing by mind after mind searching for Lucien or either of her sisters. Though I hadn’t met them, anyone thinking of Feyre would catch my attention. 

Always.

_ They’re in there. Are you ready? _

Cassian had started to bob on his feet softly, nearly imperceptibly. He’d long been used to me communicating silently when it was necessary, but perhaps to do so this often and so casually… He seemed ready for a distraction.

“Are you gonna stare at the door all day or what?” a harsh voice shouted from a balcony above. 

_ Nesta,  _ my mate shared. I noted the drop in her face, the eyeroll. My instincts flew on alert, prepared to protect her if this went in anyway badly.

But Feyre just stomped through the doors and Cassian and I trailed behind. I gave her space. She hadn’t been here since I’d forced Tamlin to send her away and she’d never been very eager to talk about her sisters, making for a potentially tense brunch.

Inside the first great room stood a human girl with hair like Feyre’s, whose face was rounder, softer, more innocent. She waited with a fresh cut bouquet that matched the soft pink flowers woven into a crown atop her head. A wide grin was spread across her face, and she was practically bubbling with eagerness.

“Feyre!” she shouted, darting toward my mate who stood frozen, stunned.

I wanted to call to her again - ask if this was okay, if I should step in. But I didn’t. I wouldn’t unless she asked for me. I was grateful that our bond had strengthened so much since her change after Under the Mountain - after she… I couldn’t even bring myself to think of that time. The time I couldn’t feel her. The time I saw her body but she wasn’t there… 

Since then our bond had been much stronger with her newfound immortality, however it also meant getting a read on her thoughts, her feelings, had been much more difficult. The Amulet of Storms, it seemed, provided its own shield around her - both mental and physical, and though that was a benefit of the cursed object that I actually liked, it made my job a little more difficult. 

“Elain,” Feyre said under her breath as her older sister embraced her. “What are you doing here?”

Elain’s eyes cast downward. “I…” she started, “I know what happened to you here.” My blood heated, adrenaline spiking. I stepped toward them, staying just behind Feyre. My hand moved to the small of her back though I wasn’t sure if it was to steady her or myself as Elain continued, “I’m so sorry to bring you back here.”

“Then why did you?” Feyre asked, her voice tight - the sound choked me, but she leaned back into my hand. It was a comfort to us both.

“Well,” Elain began,

“He wouldn’t let us leave,” the first voice called, Nesta’s voice, as she descended the stairs above us. 

“If you’re trapped here we can get you out,” Feyre said. My eyes shot to Cassian’s who had just pulled his gaze from the eldest sister when we made contact. He understood the look without me having to send him any information. We would have to wait until I was no longer here for the sisters to choose of their own free will to leave with Cassian, or maybe Mor, but we could definitely offer them a way out.

“I’m not trapped!” Elain corrected. 

And then I heard it. I heard it in her thoughts, in her fear and excitement that refused to be quiet. I heard it and I was not ready for it, nor did I believe my mate would be.

“She’s my mate,” Lucien said as he entered the room, bold-chested in a stiff hunter green tunic. 

Elain beamed at the mention of the bond. 

Nesta scoffed from up the stairwell. “Yeah, yeah. It doesn’t mean you have to hold her captive or immediately decide to spend the rest of  _ her  _ life together.”

I felt the statement like a dagger to the heart. Though in the few centuries I’d known Lucien, I hadn’t exactly become his biggest fan, I could empathize with believing your mate would only last a few decades before you quickly outlived her. The thought had kept me up at night many times Under the Mountain. 

Many things kept me up at night Under the Mountain. 

“Nesta, please,” Elain chastised her older sister.

Nesta’s lip twitched as if she was ready to snarl like an animal at her sister talking to her like that. The disgust peeled across her face as the red-haired High Fae approached Elain, setting an arm around her waist, pulling her close.

Elain turned back to Feyre, the beginning of a meek smile touching her lips. “I thought you’d understand. I thought you’d know what it was like to have found your mate.” She dropped her head, her eyes flicking toward where Nesta came to stand far off in the great room. “Nesta has been… difficult. I asked Lucien to reach out to you so that things might begin to be,” she paused at made eye contact with me and then my mate before continuing, “normal.”

I sucked in a deep breath.

“Having a mate is far from normal, Elain,” Feyre said and even as she said it, I struggled not to want to reach into her mind - to know whether there was any hint of burden on her tongue, whether our bond was the same treasure it was to me, to her. I’d waited centuries for this woman at my side, but if she didn’t want me… It was a possibility, I told myself, that I would have to come to terms with.

Elain gave a short nod. Lucien’s brows crept together.

“But, I understand,” Feyre said, her voice soft and contemplative. She dipped her chin in my direction and I felt the unspoken call, stepping to her side. Our eyes met and I was so, so grateful. “The bond,” she looked back to her sister, “it changes you… Pulls you in and redirects you. If this is what you want to pursue, then I support you no matter where it takes you.”

Pride rolled through my chest like breaking waves. 

Elain gave her sister a simple, hopeful smile before inviting us to the dining room for an early lunch.


	25. Chapter 25

**Feyre**

 

Lucien sat in Tamlin’s chair, a fact I was unwilling to find normal. So far nothing about this felt normal. 

Striding through the dining room archway proved more difficult a task than I’d planned - even for Elain’s sake - but I’d done with possibly too much dependency on Rhysand’s gentle touch at my back, his swirling thumb reminding me to breathe. Everything looked the same as it had that last day I’d spent here months ago. The window caught my eye and my chest felt the pressure of Lucien hiding me from my mate who would have known I was there no matter how much they coated me with pungent magic. 

Lucien’s arm was wrapped around my sister as they walked, her flower-crowned hair tangling with his as she rested her head on his shoulder. I did my best not to notice the subtle movements of his hand or the way she would turn her face to plant kisses not light enough to be appropriate in front of us all. They only stopped their touching once he’d sat at the head of the table and Elain had taken Lucien’s old seat. 

Nesta scoffed. 

I doubted I’d ever felt so in tune with my eldest sister in my life. 

She settled into the seat aside Elain, leaving me and my Illyrians on the opposite side of the table. They followed me, waiting to move and speak until I had my chance to lead but as I approached the chair at Lucien’s left, I hesitated. 

Rhysand appeared then, pulling the seat away to make room for himself before pulling the seat across from Nesta out for me to sit. I gave him a soft smile as we settled in. Cassian sat at my left, pulling his chair out a little further than ours, making room for his wings to fit off to the side. 

“I’m so glad to hear you support me,” Elain said to me from across the table just as servants began to carry in our meal. She reached her hand over the table where Lucien caught it instantly. 

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Yeah, we’ll see about that when you tell her what you’re actually up to.”

My gaze popped up to Elain from the food that had just been placed before me. “What is she talking about?”

Elain gave an uncomfortable smile, her lips pursed. “Well,” she started just as Lucien begame making slow, sensual circles with his fingers into her palm. “We realize that I am of limited life span.” Fear sunk in me for my own mate despite now knowing that no longer needed to be one of my many fears in this new life. Rhysand placed a hand on my knee under the table to steady me. “But we have found a way to spend immortality together.”

The air was stiff when I asked her, “What do you mean?”

She waited for all the servants to have left the room before speaking into the silence. “There’s a Cauldron that can grant life - even immortal life.”

Cassian leapt from his chair, his eyes boring into Lucien. “You’ve teamed up with Hybern?” he shouted. 

Rhysand was frozen at my side. 

“He can grant us things beyond what are available in Prythian,” Lucien said. “Things previously thought to be unattainable.”

“Only for the cost of your soul,” I bit out at the red haired fae I’d always considered my friend. “Not to mention all your people you reign over now and all the lands you inherited through your friendship with-”

“Go ahead,” Lucien interjected. “Say his name.”

We all paused. I could feel the anger bubbling down the cord that connected me to my mate. 

“Tamlin,” he spat at me, his voice full of simmering disgust. “The male who loved you. The male you killed.”

I cringed at the words, but Rhysand flew to his feet. “You may think you knew your High Lord, but none of us knew of the lengths of evil that faerie was capable of.”

“EVIL?” Lucien shouted. “You, Lord of Nightmares, are trying to tell me that Tamlin was evil? That the High Lord I knew as a friend and brother was a worse outcome for Feyre than being mated to you, royal whore and bastard?”

Cassian flew across the table, but I reached out a hand to stop him. He and my mate both slid back into their seats on either side of me. 

“Lucien,” I said, my voice soft and hollow. “That night we had the party in the meadows, when I drank faerie wine, do you remember?”

“Of course,” he responded as if my doubting his memory was an insult in and of itself.

“I’d had way too much to drink. I was barely conscious and kept blacking out…” I trailed off. My sister’s faces were surprisingly gentle, knowing where my story was headed. Rhysand held the bond firm and taut, pulling me to him, making sure I knew he was there in every way he could be. “I woke up a few times while Tamlin… He was having sex with me, Lucien. While I was unconscious. He raped me.”

Lucien’s face was a mask, his eyes troubled but his brow strong. 

“It’s irrelevant now,” he said. “Hybern is coming and he’ll have my lands and my armies.”

Something in me broke at the admission from someone I’d always considered to be good, if not at times misguided. My friend was gone and in his place was a belligerent lovestruck fool.

I pushed my chair back. “Then I suppose we have nothing more to talk about.”

“Feyre!” Elain chided. “You’re not just going to leave? Just like that? We’re doing this for love. I thought you’d understand.”

“Love is not so selfish as to sell out a continent of helpless humans and unprepared faeries to an evil dictator just so you can be young forever,” I snapped. 

And for the first time in my life, I saw Elain angry. Her face curled into a snarl, her eyes broken and betrayed. And I’d been the one to make her this way. 

“I want you out of my house and off my land,” Lucien said, not deigning to even make eye contact with us anymore.

I stood and with one last look at this new Elain, turned to leave. Rhysand and Cassian followed closely behind, but when I reached the doorway I paused in shock. A fourth chair was shoved back and I heard the light footsteps of my eldest sister join our leaving party. 

“Nesta?” Elain called out, her voice softer than it had been with me.

But Nesta did not speak back to her. Instead she walked through Cassian and my mate toward me. “I’m not staying around this evil lunacy. Our sister is lost to us now.” 

And for the first time in my life I saw Nesta turn her back on Elain.

  
  


________________

  
  
  


Rhysand winnowed us off of Spring Court lands the moment we walked out the front door of the manor, but to my surprise we weren’t instantly home in Velaris looking into the eagerly waiting eyes of the Inner Circle. Instead we were flying through a forest covered with a thick blanket of snow. Surprisingly I felt no chill despite wearing the breezy Night Court attire in deep plum with golden trim. I looked to my mate who responded with a quick yank on our bond, as he tightened his grip around my waist, his wings stretched out behind us.

Nesta and Cassian were a few yards away flying down toward an iced over fir tree. 

_ Do you trust your sister?  _ Rhys asked through the bond.

I looked away from Nesta’s scowling face, giving Cassian a scolding for an apparently rough landing.  _ In what way?  _ I asked him back, needing a little more of a specific question when it came to Nesta.

_ Could Lucien and Elain have sent her with us on purpose in order for Hybern to have a way into Velaris? _

I twisted in his arms until he gave way and we were chest to chest.  _ I trust that Nesta has always hated the fae so much that she would never work with one.  _

Rhysand nodded. I felt us glide a little higher, turning slowly. I reached my arms up and around his neck. “Are you delaying our landing?” I asked.

He grinned. “Anything to spend a little more alone time with you.”

I thought back to the night before we saw the Bone Carver, when heat seized me and the soft, sweet kisses had drawn us into sleep. And then to last night, when my nervousness over seeing my sisters kept me distant, yet he laid by my side all through the night. 

“Maybe after all this Hybern business we should get away,” I offered, my heart rate rising a little at my implication.

I felt the chill of his stress over Hybern before the slow smile spread across his face. “Oh yeah? Like a vacation?”

I couldn’t bring myself to say it outloud so instead I sent down the bond,  _ Do fae mates have honeymoons? _

Something sparked in his eyes and my blood warmed.  _ Not for mating but for marriage. _

My blush burned my cheeks. “Oh,” I said.

But instead of shying away, he leaned his face into mine and kissed both corners of my mouth. “I’ll give you a honeymoon someday,” he whispered before pressing his lips into mine and taking us far away from the world where I was an undead freak with a stone for a heart and he was an all powerful Lord and victim of decades of sexual abuse. 

Instead we were just us.

Mates.

“Are you guys ever gonna land or what?” Nesta shouted from below.

“Are you kidding me? Do you ever stop yelling?” Cassian yelled back at her.

I laughed, loud and open. Rhys grinned into my neck where he nuzzled in another kiss before descending to meet them in the snow below. 


End file.
